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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491033">The Alchemists</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftyfrisko/pseuds/swiftyfrisko'>swiftyfrisko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Gideon the Ninth Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:22:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftyfrisko/pseuds/swiftyfrisko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harrow's resurrection of Gideon by heretical sorcery has been discovered and they will have to pay the consequences. Is this the end for them, or will the Emperor Undying be merciful?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav &amp; Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus, harrow - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This follows on from my previous fics, so its best if you know a couple of things :</p><p>- Harrow, now a Lyctor, was unable to put the events of Canaan house behind her. She traveled to ancient, powerful Exomancers in secret and used heretical sorcery to resurrect Gideon.</p><p>- Gideon, in disguise to hide her resurrection, has become Harrow’s bodyguard. Whether the Lyctor Prime actually needs one is beside the point; they get to have sneaky weekends away during Harrow's breaks from the front lines of the war never-ending.</p><p>- In one such weekend they went for a "Girl's Night Out" on the town. Acting like "normal young adults" proved beyond them (surprise) and things didn't go to plan. The fears and anxieties caused by the war and their long-distance relationship had to be confronted and overcome. </p><p>Let's get into it…</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Shit. You’re her. You’re Gideon Nav.”</p><p>Gideon sighed and looked away from the transport pod’s window and its view of the Domelle coast. The guy who’d spoken and his friends, who were also goggling at her, were tech types. Necralytics by the look of it. Their casual dress and demeanor contrasting with her and Brinna’s military posture and Imperial Bodyguard uniforms that were designed to broadcast intimidating visual signals. She remembered sharing the transport with them before. The uniform and the IB’s reputation meant these guys wouldn’t have dared approach her then, but now… since the news broke, she was almost getting used to this. Almost. </p><p>“Yup.” She said curtly, hoping to cut off further inquiries, but knowing their curiosity was unlikely to be denied so easily. She could see one of them discreetly handling a ‘tab to snatch a covert pic. Must be 30 seconds at least to Station Mert, and in a 10 foot square pod, what could she do? Smash the fool into next week then wreck his ‘tab, that’s what. And wouldn’t the media just love that. Keep it cool girl. Cooool...  She waited while one of them got the courage up to ask their inevitable stupid questions.  </p><p>“So what’s she like?”</p><p>“Same as us, but different.” Gideon replied disinterestedly.</p><p>“I mean…” he tailed off.</p><p>“You’re her girlfriend?” a braver friend piped up.</p><p>“You’re well informed.”</p><p>“So do you… what’s she like?”</p><p>Yup, there it was. She sighed again. “You mean: do we fuck, and if so, what’s she like in bed.”</p><p>Their eager silence said more than their half-formed questions ever could.</p><p>Gideon leant closer to speak confidentially. “Her pussy is made of bone and contains a thousand tiny teeth. She decorates the wall above her bed-slash-kill-zone with the shredded dicks of hundreds of discarded sex slaves. My life flashes before my eyes every time I go down on her. But it’s my night off. And...” </p><p>She looked the techy up and down. “...we need new meat. She has a taste for geeks.”</p><p>The guy swallowed. His friends swallowed. </p><p>“And what Harrowhark the First wants, she gets.” Gideon said. Taking her cue, Brinna grinned at the guys hungrily.</p><p>The geeks eyes flicked to the exits and between Gideon and Brinna, sizing up their chances of resisting a violent sex-slave abduction scenario. Outlook: stormy with a high probability of minced penis overnight. </p><p>“Look on it as your contribution to the war effort.” Brinna added. </p><p>“Thisismystop.” said the guy as the pod glided to a halt and one of his group hammered the ‘Open’ button until the doors slid aside. The Necralytics dudes made a swift exit as one, someone slinging a “Nice hair” compliment Gideon’s way, all of them watching her and Brinna warily, lest they attempt a last-second grab in the service of the sexual gratification of the - for now - Lyctor Prime. </p><p>“Sure? She’d teach you a whole new meaning of the word ‘boner’.” Gideon called after them.</p><p>She exhaled as the doors closed and the pod accelerated. There had been many encounters like this over the past week, and plenty that had been worse. Brinna put a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Stay strong Gid. Just weather the storm.”</p><p>Gideon reached up to feel the comforting hand.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Go see her.” the bodyguard said, as the pod pulled into the upscale surroundings of Domelle Heights, where the highest ranking military officers and Lyctors were quartered: Gideon’s destination.  </p><p>“And remember - the Bs have your back.” She said with a smile.</p><p>“That means a lot, Brinna.” The Buff Boss Bitch Bodyguard crew, ‘B4s’ or just ‘Bs’ had become family to her over the past year. </p><p>Gideon stepped from the pod to make the familiar walk to Harrow’s quarters. Normally the short trip would be filled with a pleasant mixture of anticipation of time together and relief that she was back safe from the front lines. This time though, Gideon was a bag of nerves.</p><p>It had been a week since the news broke: Harrowhark the First, Lyctor Prime, had committed a heresy. For sexual gratification, no less, by resurrecting some girl from her past life in secret via forbidden exomancy. Abusing her position by appointing her as her personal bodyguard. Carrying on an affair with the unholy creature right under everyone’s noses. Sin upon sin upon sin. It had been all over the media, wrenching Gideon’s life out of shape.   </p><p>Did that guy just spit <em> at </em>her or was he already spitting in her direction? More whispered comments and side-eyed glances as she passed; commonplace now. Ignore them girl, head high and fuck them all. On the plus side, who would ever have suspected that being a daily target of hate, fear and suspicion in the Ninth House would prove such excellent preparation for later in life! In every grey cloud... And she’d been able to ditch the hair dye and contact lens disguise. Be thankful for small mercies.  </p><p><br/>
<br/>
------</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Eventually, she found herself at the door to her Lyctor’s quarters, took a breath and announced herself. The door slid open and Gideon stepped inside. </p><p>Lyctors got the best of everything. The apartment was intended to be a place of relaxation and retreat from the strains of war. Spacious, in light, muted colours, luxurious furnishings striking just the right balance of comfort vs elegance. Gideon noted that the desks, usually covered by a wealth of ancient volumes, leaves of flimsy and unidentifiable bones and artifacts, were bare. </p><p>Harrow stood silently at the window, which occupied the entire side of the living space, looking out at the sunset over the Sea of Domelle, light glittering on the waves. Two Cohort officers stood against one wall, their white uniforms crisply pressed, stern faces watching Gideon closely.</p><p>Harrow turned. “Griddle. It's good to see you.” </p><p>Watching Harrow force a subdued smile and seeing the events of the week etched on her face inflicted more pain on Gideon than muttered curses and whispers ever could. The look in Harrow’s eyes made her heart hurt. </p><p>Harrow addressed the elder officer. “A moment alone please, Colonel.” </p><p>“Very well. I can only give you a moment though.” he replied reluctantly, and led his colleague to an adjacent section of the expansive quarters, where they could observe discreetly.</p><p>Gideon crossed the room to wrap her Lyctor in a hold that was perhaps a bit tighter than intended, eliciting a muffled grunt from the smaller girl but no objection. </p><p>She relaxed the hold to look into Harrow’s pale, angular face. When had she last slept? She was used to seeing her drained by the war on her return, but this was different.  </p><p>“What’s going on?” Gideon asked.</p><p>“I’ve been summoned to meet Him immediately. I told my escort I wouldn’t go without seeing you first.”</p><p>Gideon’s stomach took a turn. “Shit. What do you think he’ll do?”</p><p>“He cannot leave this unpunished. That’s all I’m certain of.” Harrow answered. “Gideon, I don’t know how far he’ll go. The precedents are not favorable and I’m sure there are elements pushing for the most severe penalties. He may be forced to… I...” She hesitated and shivered, Harrowhark the First, the Feared, the Bringer of Death, just a fearful wisp of a girl wrapped in black and comforting arms. </p><p>Hearing the words and feeling the fear in Harrow broke through the barriers Gideon had erected, the walls that had kept a terrifying reality at bay. The truth came rushing in to sweep away her strength and leave only an aching dread in its place. They were both powerless against forces that could tear them apart, or worse. How long did they have? Was this it?</p><p>Harrow collected herself, her gaze unwavering, her voice calm, resigned. “When I resurrected you, I did it with eyes wide open. I knew there was a possibility this day would come.”</p><p>“I’ll accept whatever punishment Our Lord deems fit,” She continued. “But I shall fight as hard as I can for him to spare you. You’re an entirely innocent party.”</p><p>“Harrow,” Gideon said. “I’ve already died once. These two years you’ve given me, they’ve been a bonus. How could I ask for anything more? Save yourself, if it comes to that.”</p><p>“Only two years.” Harrow mused. “Not enough.”</p><p>“I’m surprised we got away with it for that long.”  </p><p>“They were good years though, weren’t they.” The adept smiled up at her.</p><p>“Not bad.” Gideon returned the smile and leaned down to meet her in a kiss.</p><p>Eventually Harrow broke away, frowning in concern: “It can’t have been easy, facing the masses here alone, Griddle. How are you holding up?”</p><p>“Oh, I feel rather at home.” Gideon said brightly. “Curses, dirty looks, a general disdain aimed my way. It’s almost like being back in the Ninth.”</p><p>“That bad?”</p><p>“Not quite - I don’t have you to torment me. Actually the more enlightened souls don’t have a problem with me being here via unholy sorcery, but there’s a lot that see me as a walking blasphemy. Mention heresy and it gets the wrong kind of people all kinds of worked up. ”</p><p>“But honestly,” She continued. “most of them just want to know what sex with a Lyctor is like. They’d not really considered that you guys would do it, or at least not with a mere mortal like myself.”</p><p>“Really? As I understood it there is an entire sub-genre of pornography dedicated to showing me in various distasteful scenarios.”</p><p>“Indeed. Well, those mostly involve you...”</p><p>“You’ve seen them? Why would you do that? You have me.” Harrow’s brow furrowed.</p><p>Gideon fumbled for a moment. “The Bs described them to me. Anyway, they mostly involve you offing your unfortunate sexual partner in the most grisly and painful way imaginable, after you’ve drained them of various bodily fluids. So people are curious as to how I’m still alive, if these are accurate.”</p><p>Harrow tutted. “I blame the Cohort media machine. They seem to enjoy fueling these sordid fantasies. And what do you tell them?”</p><p>“You do indeed kill me after sex, then resurrect me. That seems to match their expectations, plus I get some sympathy.”</p><p>“Hmm. Turning the situation to your advantage. Good work, Griddle.” Harrow replied doubtfully. </p><p>“I do my best.” Gideon conceded. “Did you know there’s some group of nuns trying to pray the unholiness out of me? They actually followed me around a couple of days ago, chanting and wailing. Wouldn’t leave me alone. Made for an uncomfortable trip to The Puss Palace.”</p><p>Harrow glared. </p><p>“It was Brinna’s birthday! What could I do?”</p><p>Harrow rolled her eyes and sighed. They’d been through this. The distance and war exerted pressures that had tested them, but they had shared their fears to overcome them together.  </p><p>“Anyway, the nuns might actually be working, you know. I’ve been feeling more wholesome recently, inexplicably purer of heart and intention.”</p><p>Harrow raised an eyebrow and Gideon put an arm around her waist. </p><p>“So I need you to fuck the badness back into me.”</p><p>Harrow smiled in spite of herself. “Griddle, you are precisely what I need right now. However, this is not quite the moment.”</p><p>Right on queue, the two officers approached. “It’s time, Harrowhark the First.” The Colonel declared.</p><p>Harrow quickly pulled the taller girl down into a kiss and whispered: “Whatever happens, know that I’d do it all again. Never doubt it.” Then released her to walk with her escorts to the exit.</p><p>“I’ll be waiting, Sugarlips.” Gideon said as Harrow stepped through the door, turning back to snatch one last look at her cavalier before it slid closed, leaving Gideon with an image of a pale, thin girl dressed in black with a haunted look in her eyes and the overwhelming fear that that may be her final, abiding memory of the woman she had loved and lost. She stood and watched the ocean until the glittering sunset had gone, and all that remained was a foreboding dark emptiness. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>Fucking wonderful, thought Harrow as she walked across the courtyard towards the Palace Dometicus Electus, primary dwelling place of the Emperor Undying. Just who she’d hoped to avoid. The inhumanly tall, slender figure of Horrix sashayed towards her, pale silvery skin wrapped in something white, flowing and absurdly impractical. The Lyctor was headed in the opposite direction, away from the Necrolord's quarters. Fantastic. No doubt she’d just finished insisting that the most reasonable course of action was to condemn Harrow to a lifetime of hard labour and ritual abuse in the most dismal hermitage in the Empire. Or worse, much worse. </p><p>“Oh, the little black bone goblin. You’re expected, darling.” She called brightly, pink eyes wide in pleasure. Then quieter, as they passed: “How the mighty have fallen. Always knew you’d fuck up someday, you awful little shit.” Her beauty twisting, betraying her true character. Harrow passed quickly, making no comment, focused on her destination. How much import would he have put in Horrix’s council?</p><p>The door to the quarters was unassuming and if she’d not visited many times before, Harrow could easily have passed it by, unsuspecting. She knocked out of politeness - he would be well aware of her approach. </p><p>“Enter.” came the reply in that familiar, mild voice. She opened the door to walk into the reception, a generously sized office where the Necrolord Prime carried out his administrative tasks of the day, designed as a buffer of sorts, a place where business could be conducted, but would intrude no further into the private spaces beyond. It was decorated in a fussily antique style of rich dark wood, leather and ancient devices that Harrow had always assumed to be inspired by his memories of mortality, a myriad ago.     </p><p>He stood by his desk, waiting, watching her with dark eyes, dressed immaculately in a light colored three piece suit. </p><p>Harrow immediately prostrated herself upon the floor before him, forehead pressed to polished wood.</p><p>“My Lord, My Emperor, My God.” She began urgently. “Before you is but a wretched servant that has pledged its mind and body to the service of God to do His bidding to the best of it’s meager abilities but has instead failed Him miserably. I am utterly undeserving of the generous gifts My Lord has bestowed upon myself and my House. I have disgraced My Lord. I throw myself upon his mercy and humility. May My Lord do with me as he deems fit.”</p><p>“An explanation, Harrowhark the First.” He said in a tired voice.</p><p>Harrow weighed her response. An explanation might be considered an attempt at justification for the heretical act, when surely there was none. Surely repentance was what he was looking for, not a form of defiance.</p><p>“There is no explanation fit or proper to be heard by My Lord. I have only my most abject repentance to offer, insufficient as that is.” Harrow declared.</p><p>“Get up.” He sounded a little irritated now.  </p><p>“Look at me.”</p><p>She stood and looked, dazzled for a moment, lost in the depths of ebon eyes. His face was neutral, betraying nothing; no anger, no pity, no scorn. </p><p>“An explanation. I’ve heard more than enough from everyone else. I want to hear your reasons from your own lips.”</p><p>Harrow collected herself. So simple, yet so difficult to describe. “I was…” Why had she not rehearsed this? You idiot Harrow. “...deeply disturbed by the events at Canaan House. She - the woman, Gideon Nav - had given her life to save me. Not for the house, or out of some sense of duty, just for myself. And I had not deserved it. I had not been…” She faltered again before collecting herself. “...It was a debt I felt compelled to repay, and instead of the passing of time relieving me of this burden… the weight grew, day by day.” </p><p>The Necrolord sighed, stroked his neatly trimmed silver beard, but said nothing, continuing to watch her intently.</p><p>“It grew until it drove me to action.”</p><p>“So it was a kind of karmic transaction. She gave you life, you gave her life.” The Emperor explained casually.</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“Although...” She continued. Harrow, what are you doing, don’t go there. “...there is a little more behind it, perhaps.”</p><p>“Ah.” He said, as if this had piqued his interest. Was he mocking her?</p><p>“We have a bond, of sorts, perhaps you could call it a shared destiny.” Harrow, don’t, this isn’t what he wants to hear. “We were the only two survivors of our generation in the Ninth House. We grew up together. We were close… in a way. And this influenced my decision.”</p><p>“I’m well aware.” He said. “And so, this karmic debt and ‘shared destiny’ led you to the Exomancers of Estrus and your heretical act.”</p><p>“It did, My Lord.” Wait, what did he mean by ‘well aware’? And how did he know about Estrus?     </p><p>“And do you regret your actions?” He asked.</p><p>Here it was. The crux of it. Harrow felt a sudden vertigo, as if she had suddenly found herself poised at the edge of a cliff, suspended in mid-step. A single word able to pull her back to solid ground and safety, or to continue walking into the void.  </p><p>“I do not.” She said, and met his gaze.</p><p>The words, set free from reckless painted lips, were liberating in their truth. Let the chips fall as they may. She would hide no longer. </p><p>“I regret any disgrace by association this may have inflicted upon My Lord and His Lyctors. I regret that the only option open to me was heresy. I do not regret the act itself, of bringing her back.” Too defiant Harrow, you fool.</p><p>He nodded, his implacable gaze unwavering, face still betraying nothing of his intentions, then eventually sighed deeply and sadly. “Harrowhark, walk with me.” He said, turning to move into the interior of the quarters.</p><p>For a moment she hesitated, unsure of the meaning behind his request. Where was he taking her? Had she overstepped her bounds and now was undone? Was this a reprieve? Or something else? </p><p>She followed the Emperor silently, a few cautious paces behind, as he proceeded deeper into the palace. They walked through narrow paneled corridors decorated with framed images in the style of previous myriads, with pigments daubed onto thin flat rectangles of wood pulp. They walked through rooms that contained a multitude of machines that she could not identify, some as tall as her, some no larger than a coin, in various states of disassembly, intricate pieces arranged on green cloth. They walked through a glass ceiling conservatory crowded with colorful plants and their heady scent the like of which she had never experienced before. Saw saw no other living soul. How many venture this far into the sanctum of the Necrolord?     </p><p>They arrived at an expansive balcony that looked out over the lawns and ornamental gardens of the Palace grounds, and here he stopped, to exhale and take in the evening.</p><p>“And what would be a suitable punishment, do you think?” He asked.</p><p>The walk had displayed artifacts and activities so ancient in their origin that she could not fully understand their purpose. The balcony and the scene before her created an informality in contrast to the businesslike surroundings of the Reception. Perhaps his actions were a reminder that she could not entirely know him or his motivations, and signaled a desire for a more open dialogue. She would venture the truth again, then.</p><p>She looked out across the grounds. “I would not presume to venture one. Truly, I do not know. And though I fear it, I have faith that My Lord’s judgment will be fair and wise.” She looked at him. “I trust in you.”</p><p>He turned to her. “Good.”</p><p>“But I must make one humble request.” She said. “Gideon Nav is an innocent victim of my sin. She is entirely blameless and should not be punished.” </p><p>“You’ve created quite the problem for me.” He said. “She is, as you say, innocent, but the girl has been contaminated by the unholy nature of her resurrection.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I’ve received numerous reports of her uncouth tongue, impertinent behavior and excessive snarkiness. I’ve witnessed this myself, and it is plainly evident that her soul has been soiled by the corrupt…”</p><p>“My Lord, if I may.” Interrupted Harrow. “She has always been this way. I think she’s possibly become more mature and respectful since her return.”</p><p>“Really? Good grief...” His brow furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief. “You mean this is actually an improvement?”</p><p>Harrow nodded. “I’m afraid so.”</p><p>“We had all assumed that the unholiness had… ” Lost for words, he gestured helplessly with his hands before continuing: “This changes things. I’ll not have those nuns follow her around any longer. They were most uncomfortable with the tittie bars anyway.”</p><p>“Good. The nuns were probably counterproductive.” </p><p>“There is something else I need to ask, Harrowhark.” He said. “Has the resurrection only been performed once?”</p><p>“Yes.” She replied, confused.</p><p>“Excellent. That simplifies things. Because a rumor had come to our attention that you had performed the sorcery a number of times.” He continued tentatively. “That after each time you two… performed an act…  you would then kill and resurrect the poor creature.”</p><p>“I have absolutely no idea how these disgusting stories get started.” Harrow declared indignantly. “None at all. This rumor mongering is a disgrace. The culprits should be disciplined severely.”</p><p>“I apologize for raising it. Most distasteful. But a council member insisted they knew someone that had heard it from the girl Gideon. They will be dealt with, worry not.”</p><p>“I blame the Cohort media machine.” Harrow shook her head and fussed with her skirts.</p><p>“Yes, indeed. They just don’t know where to stop sometimes.” </p><p>The Emperor Undying surveyed the gardens for some moments before turning back to his Lyctor.  </p><p>“Harrowhark,” He began. “There are two matters I must share with you.”</p><p>Down to business. Harrow steeled herself.</p><p>“Firstly, do you know why you are my favorite?” </p><p>Harrow’s mind reeled for a moment. The question seemed almost paradoxical; God could have no favorites. There had been occasions that had given her pause, but she’d always assumed His judgment and decisions were a product of wisdom without such human failings. </p><p>“I had assumed that if My Lord displayed a positive disposition towards myself then this was due to His satisfaction in my performance.” Harrow answered, truthfully.</p><p>“Your performance has been exemplary, indeed. But I could say the same of some other Lyctors. No, that’s not the reason.” </p><p>He continued. “Harrowhark, my child, what do you know of the Alchemists?”</p><p>The Emperor Undying and Harrowhark Nonagesimus stood together on the balcony as he talked of alchemists and other things. By the time he had finished, she understood that her relationship to Empire and Emperor had changed forever. </p><p>“I… I am not sure how to react to this.” She searched for words but found none, just His implacable dark gaze. “I am at a loss. Why are you telling me?” She asked.</p><p>“In order that you may understand the second matter I must share. Your punishment.”</p><p>He described her penance, the nature of her purgatory, and as he did so her heart sank beneath the waves of an ocean of extinguished dreams, falling into an abyss of sadness and aching fear. And yet, better than she had any right to expect, for in that abyss there was still the light of hope.  </p><p>“Very well. I accept.” She said, and turned from him to retrace her steps through the workshops, chambers and corridors of the palace, beautiful but silent and devoid of life.</p><p> </p><p>--------</p><p> </p><p>Gideon sat in the darkness of the Lyctor’s quarters, watching the black ocean and considering whether to pour another glass. The stuff was fantastically good, distilled from something exotic she’d never heard of from a world she’d never seen, probably a gift from some general or other attempting to secure favors. Lyctors got all the best shit. And Harrow no doubt had never even considered opening it, so, no harm done. Aside from the fact that she was going to pass out on this damn sofa before long and if Harrow returned she wanted to be conscious. When Harrow returned, when. No, be real girl, it’s an If, stop kidding yourself. How long has it been? Too long. She’s not coming back. What have they done with her?  </p><p>The door slid open and Gideon twisted to peer into the gloom, calling out: “Harrow?” </p><p>“It’s me.” came the reply.</p><p>Gideon vaulted, a little clumsily, over the sofa to rush to the adept and grab her in a hug. </p><p>“Fuck. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”</p><p>“Sorry to disappoint.”</p><p>Gideon released her to hold her shoulders at arms length. “So what happened?” </p><p>“Griddle, now is the time to fulfill your earlier request. I need to fuck the badness back into you. Now.” </p><p>Harrow took her hand to lead her through the darkness to the bedroom and slip free of black formalwear, leaving only ivory skin, smooth and flawless in the moonlight reflected from the ocean. Free of formalities and the trappings of her office, her natural restraint was shed with them, and Gideon barely had time to register the hunger in the adept’s eyes before Harrow pulled her down into a kiss with a passion that surprised her.  </p><p>“You’ve been drinking.” Harrow said.</p><p>“It called to me. It was worried you were never going to open it.”</p><p>“Good. It’ll make you easier to overpower.”</p><p>“That won’t be nec...”</p><p>Harrow leapt up to grip the taller girl between her thighs and restart the kiss with a new vigor. The pair toppled backwards onto the bed, and Gideon ran her hands over cool skin and skinny curves to pull the girl closer, to feel the pressure of her body as it moved against her. She never got used to how fragile and small Harrow felt, such a contrast to the power within her.  </p><p>“Take them off.” Harrow breathed. </p><p>Gideon had become accustomed to taking the lead during sex, but tonight Harrow had an urgency that pushed her to be in command. Her desire was the greater, fueled by knowing their future and needing the present so badly. She gasped as fingers found her wet and ready, but pushed the strong hand away, to allow her to concentrate on pleasing the other girl. Gideon let her do as she wished, lost in moments made fuzzy by alcohol and sweet by the touch of delicious skin and bone. She wanted to taste Harrow forever, swim in her, never release her, never move from this bed, never need to explain why she loved her, never have to justify wanting her so much, never say she was sorry for any of it. Fuck the rest of the world and all their shit. Together we are free. There’s only us. We are here, we are now, and now is all that matters. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon was still breathing heavily as Harrow rolled on top of her. “It’s time for round 3.” The adept said. “Or is this round 4? I’ve lost count. Did you really come just now?”</p><p>“Ummmm...” </p><p>“Round 3 it is then.”</p><p>“Fucking hell. I would have encouraged you to commit serious crimes on a regular basis if I’d known this was the result.”</p><p>In time Harrow made her own needs clear and Gideon was all too ready to satisfy them. It didn’t take long, inspired by heavenly pressure and friction, tensing to strain every fatigued sinew and muscle in her slender body followed by an exquisite, shuddering release. Tears followed, the strength to hold back the flood gone, exhausted, and Gideon finally found the courage to ask her: “Harrow, what’s going on? Tell me. I don’t know if I can take the answer, but I can’t take not knowing.”</p><p>“I have to leave.” Harrow said between breaths. “God knows I don’t want to, but I must. I can’t say any more.”</p><p>“Is it forever? This feels like a goodbye. Don’t say it, please don’t.” Fear rising again uncontrolled. It felt as if it could burst her heart.</p><p>Harrow looked into her eyes. “Just know this Gideon: I have faith in you. I have faith in us.”</p><p>“Fuck them.” Gideon’s fear turned to anger. “They’re trying to make us into something wrong, something dirty, so they can punish us. They don’t even want to see the truth. It’s easier just to hate us. Fuck them all. ”</p><p>“They don’t understand us,” Harrow said “so they fear us. It's easy to hate what you fear. We can’t change them, Gideon. The only way we can win is by believing in us, believing we should be together and never doubting.” </p><p>“Harrow, whether we’re on opposite sides of the fucking galaxy, or in the same bed, we are always together. Always.” Gideon breathed.</p><p>“Don’t forget it, or I am undone, I’m lost.” the adept said urgently.</p><p>Gideon slumped onto the sheets, weariness overtaking her. “Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll remember it.” </p><p>“I’m not worried. Faith, remember? Go to sleep, Griddle. Go to sleep.”</p><p>The last thing Gideon was aware of before finally falling into troubled dreams, was of  Harrow stroking her hair, and being lulled by soothing whispers.</p><p>And in the morning Harrow was gone. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>The next few days were forever, and the ones after that barely existed. Panic had given way to fear, and a pain in her soul too sharp to bear, too hard to live with, especially in the eternal, sleepless nights. Training was almost a distraction. She could almost forget, for almost a moment, before it found her again to wrap her heart in its suffocating embrace.</p><p>The B’s did their best. But a visit to her favorite strip club, a couple of drinks, and she’d find herself catching glimpses of Harrow in anything with short dark hair or that moved or talked or dressed a certain way. Just looking for a dancer that could remind her even a little, to watch, to remember, to imagine, to get another drink, maybe to fight back tears, Brinna helping her into the pod home.   </p><p>Telling herself to snap out of it, get on with life, stay strong. How the fuck had Harrow felt after Canaan House? How did she handle it? Better than this. But how would you know?</p><p>The pain was replaced by a sickening ache that felt like it would last a myriad. And then, two weeks after she’d left, the announcement: Harrowhark the First, guilty of Heresy. Sentenced to exile by the Emperor Undying. No more details, no mention of Gideon. So that was it; hope extinguished. It was forever, never to return. She hadn’t realised how much she’d held on to hope until it was gone, leaving her numb and dead and actually quite glad Harrow hadn’t told her, so she had the memory of that one last night, together. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>That night, eventually, by some miracle, she slept and dreamed. She was back in Canaan House, in the Facility, standing in a bland corridor that stretched to infinity with a floor of off-white tiles, walls that had faded to grey over millennia, badly lit at long intervals by sputtering, broken lights. </p><p>She saw it in the distance, so far away that it was just an indistinct dark shape, but so familiar that she knew it in an instant: Harrow, huddled on the floor.</p><p>“Harrow!” She shouted and started to race across filthy, slippery tiles. Plaster fell from the ceiling and lights shattered, spraying glass and darkness. The ground began to vibrate, cracking the walls, fracturing the floor beneath her feet. </p><p>“Harrow!” she screamed as the walls fell away in pieces to reveal darkness beyond. Harrow was unmoving as she sprinted for her, to rescue her from the collapse. Was she getting closer? She was still so distant. The corridor was shaking itself to destruction, filling the cramped space with a deafening, crashing, roar, the world falling in on them as Gideon reached the girl to find only a mound of dark cape and clothing. She tore them apart searching for her but they dissolved into shreds to reveal only her sword, the Zweihander. She held it tight as she fell into the abyss and dreamed a memory of fingers in her hair and a whisper: “The sword, Griddle. My gift.”.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon awoke with a start. Morning already. Light flooded the small bedroom, and she remembered the dream: the Facility, Harrow lying in a huddle on the floor, her sword, and the whisper. Then recalled the announcement, crushing her spirit all over again.</p><p>She’d finished breakfast and was almost ready to make the trip to the Imperial training facility when the room announced a visitor, a courier, outside. On opening the door, the drone authenticated her and released the package. Gideon didn’t need to read a label or open it to know what was inside. Back in her quarters she opened the box to reveal her double-hander and had the room query its tracking. The item had been deposited two weeks back, anonymous sender and its delivery had been triggered by unspecified, possibly complex, conditions. The announcement? </p><p>Harrow had fought with the sword in the war, only bringing it back occasionally, and Gideon’s bodyguard duties had left no use for it, so she’d not seen it in more than a year. It was something they’d both trusted their lives to and fought with, and it had been with her even before the birth of their bond. </p><p>What was Harrow playing at? Did the sword have some other meaning or had she just returned something to remember her by while she had the opportunity? </p><p>Gideon lifted the sword and it felt good to feel its familiar weight in her hands again. Then she saw it: part of the guard had a small bone insert and on that, a single tiny drop of dried blood. She pushed her thumb to the drop to feel the bone shift beneath her skin, then lifted up to see that it had twisted to form four tiny letters: “etra”.</p><p>Gideon knew of Etra; everyone did. The birth world of the Emperor Undying. A myriad ago it had been the hub of civilization, the light that shone across the galaxy. The origin of the Empire. The millennia since had not been kind. War, eco-tech damage and successive collapses had reduced it to a wasteland, a derelict world inhabited by those that lacked the resources to escape, or needed to hide at any cost. A dead, forgotten, shitworld. </p><p>So this was Harrow’s gift; her weapon and directions.  </p><p>Gideon noticed her old sunglasses tucked into the package and pulled them out, then crossed the room to look out at Domelle’s spaceport, its domes reflecting the low morning sun. </p><p>Enough moping around; now was the time to play to her strengths. Gideon felt life had proved that she was here to do two things: Kick Ass and Love Harrow.</p><p>And she was all out of Harrow. </p><p>She flipped the sunglasses open and slapped them on.</p><p>Ass kicking time.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for getting to the end! (of this chapter) Hope you enjoyed it. I feel like I'm all alone in an AU rabbit hole of my own making, but what the hell, that's what AO3 is for right? </p><p>Now I only have to figure out the middle and end. That's all.<br/>OMG. Slow, deep breaths... easy...</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Princess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harrow has been exiled by the Emperor Undying to the forgotten deadworld of Etra and Gideon is going to have to kick some ass and take some names to find her. The zweihander demands blood.<br/>Can she do it before the Queen of Bones descends into madness amidst ever weirder, ever deadlier bone-related antics, or she falls for another waif-like cutie? I wish I knew. I'm totally making this shit up as I go (not really).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m looking for a girl.” Gideon said to the middle aged, conventionally handsome barman, loud enough for most of the patrons propping up the bar to be in earshot.</p><p>“Ain't we all.” Cackled a wizened old guy nearby, a sailor by the look of it.</p><p>Gideon ignored him. This had become a familiar routine over the past couple of weeks, in various bars, traders, ports, as she tracked Harrow’s path. The Elhara was the busiest bar in yet another middling sized coastal town that she’d already forgotten the name of. The bar, like the town, was populated with a colorful mix of traders, sailors and grifters, all function and no style, constructed from blocks of sandstone, decorated sparsely. It was located on the same continent as the only spaceport on Etra, a forgotten world, bypassed by the advances in civilization enjoyed by most of the rest of the Empire. Gideon had never felt so far from home.</p><p>“This one is about... so high. Skinny. Pale. Short black hair. Looks like it’s been cut with a knife.” She sighed wistfully. “It actually has been cut with a knife. I’m really trying to get her to upgrade her grooming. She could make a lot more of herself.”</p><p>The bartender shook his head and shrugged. No response from the rest of them.</p><p>“Wears black exclusively.” She said, then added: “Colors bring her out in a rash. I’ve never been sure if she’s actually physically allergic to dyes or it’s psychosomatic.” Off on another tangent, she knew, but get her started on the subject of Harrow and she could go for hours. Another couple of drinks in her and she really would. She missed the moody little witch like hell, damn it.</p><p>No response again.</p><p>“She’s usually kind of… sour, pissed-off looking. Actually pissed off, not just resting-bitch-face. Don’t tell her I said that.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Replied the barman.</p><p>“She sounds like a keeper,” Chipped in the oldster. That guy was starting to annoy her; Harrow <b>was</b> a keeper, but she wasn’t selling her best points.</p><p>“Might have had her face painted like a skull?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“You’re sure? She hasn’t passed through?”</p><p>“Mean looking, skinny, pale little girl in black with her face painted like a skull and a bad haircut. I think we’d remember her if we’d seen her.” He replied. True - everyone here was darker skinned, dressed in lighter flowing clothes suited to the intense sun of this desert region. Gideon noted yet again to pick up some of those - her close fitting shirts and pants weren’t appropriate, and instantly marked her out as an outsider, but her funds were running low.</p><p>What else distinguished her Penumbral Princess?</p><p>“She’s into… bones?” Gideon ventured.</p><p>“She speaks of the bone demon!” shrieked the old man, pointing at Gideon, eyes wide in terror. The barman dropped the glass he was drying. The bar was filled with gasps and raised voices, and suddenly every eye was upon her.</p><p>“Demon? No, no, you must be thinking of someone else,” Said Gideon dismissively.</p><p>“The demon in the form of a girl!” A woman piped up. “It came here and killed the Baron and his knights!”</p><p>“No, that can’t be her. She’s a sweetie.”</p><p>“The she-devil came into our town on a litter carried by a hundred skeletons,” Someone said.</p><p>“No. She’s more a limo kind of girl these days. Lyctors, what can I say,” Gideon said, then considered it further. “Although she is trying to be more eco-friendly, and skeletons are kind of recycling...”</p><p>“It was a soulless creature with dark, lifeless eyes.”</p><p>“No, no. She can be a bit frosty until she warms up to you - took her 10 years with me - but I wouldn’t say soulless.”</p><p>“The demon strangled the Baron with his own ribs!”</p><p>“No, no. Although,” Gideon chuckled softly. “Harrow does have a thing about ribs.”</p><p>“It used long words what I didn’t understand.” Said a guy at the back.</p><p>“That’s her!” Gideon confirmed.</p><p>“So, you’re a hero, come here to slay the monster?” The barman asked urgently.</p><p>“No, no.” Gideon laughed. “She’s my girlfriend.”</p><p>An uproar of screaming and shouting ensued, punctuated by cries of “Unnatural!”, “Unholy!” and even more pointing in her direction. A couple of the women and one or two of the men fainted, throwing themselves onto the floor dramatically. Some of the less fainty, more macho, men moved to a state of combat readiness, hands on the hilt of their swords. Here we go again, thought Gideon as her hand moved unconsciously to the zweihander on her back.</p><p>Gideon rolled her eyes. “Ok, calm down.” She called out over the din. “You may think her a murderous, evil monster, but she’s MY murderous, evil monster. Obviously she’s been here and made a big impression. So just tell me which direction she headed, and I’ll be on my way.”</p><p>“You’ll get nothing from us but cold steel, unnatural concubine of the bone demon!” A large man announced grandly, his ornately decorated robes marking him out as some form of local official, but conspicuously possessing no cold steel of his own.</p><p>Gideon hadn’t had a decent fight in at least a couple of days, and for a moment she imagined she could hear a tiny, plaintive call from the hilt of the dual-hander near the back of her head: “feed me Gideon”. Tempting as it was, she was reluctant to engage here. The confined space of the bar, number of assailants and non-combatants would make escape difficult. A non-violent option then.</p><p>She met the eyes of the official with an amber glare and announced coldly: “Let me put it this way. The business with the ribs and the knights can be put down to... a little girlish over-exuberance.”</p><p>“But she’ll be back.” Gideon said. “And if she finds out you screwed her girlfriend around, well, if you thought she was a monster before, you should see her when she’s angry.”</p><p>“Have you ever seen a man anally penetrated by his own spine? It’s a shitty way to go.”</p><p>There was a short silence while everyone tried to figure out how that would work. Especially the shit part.</p><p>“That sounds anatomically impossible,” The Official announced. “But having witnessed the terrifying aftermath of the palace incident, I have no wish to risk that fate upon the good menfolk of this town.” The room heartily murmured its approval.</p><p>“The debased creature ventured north, likely towards the Port of Attar.”</p><p>“Across the desert.” Gideon said.</p><p>“Indeed. A perilous journey these days, with the feuding of those devilish Terramancers. Best of luck to you.” He smiled.</p><p>She’d heard of the Terramancers; powerful families of sorcerers with a command of earth magic in its various forms, warring over territory and ancient ruins that were rumored to contain valuable, and dangerous, artifacts from past millennia. Going across the desert wasn’t a promising option. Was he telling the truth or just trying to be rid of her, permanently?</p><p>“I thank you for your cooperation.” She said grudgingly. The exchange with the official seemed to draw a line under the matter and calm the bar down, and none of those still giving her the evil-eye appeared to be particularly threatening, so she turned back to finish her drink and ponder the options.</p><p>“You’ll never make the crossing alone.” The barman said quietly. “Find Garrix in the east quarter. He’s a trader, and sends caravans across regularly. He always needs swords for security and he’ll take you on - he’ll have heard of Gideon the Golden Eyed.”</p><p>Gideon raised an eyebrow. She’d not exactly been keeping a low profile over the last couple of weeks, but what was she meant to do? She wasn’t screwing around in her quest to find Harrow, these were rough parts, and she’d been trained extensively in multiple forms of armed and unarmed combat but zero methods of diplomacy. A few heads had been broken. The two-hander had drunk its fill.</p><p>“You’ve been making quite a mess around the coast, and you’re an unusual looking girl.”</p><p>“I’m quite possibly the hottest thing on this planet, it’s true.” Gideon conceded thoughtfully. “Not sure about this ‘Golden eyed’ thing. I’m trying to establish ‘Gideon Nav the Unkillable’ as my brand. Has a nice ring to it.”</p><p>“Too many in these parts might take that as a challenge,” The barman offered doubtfully, then leaned closer. “So you’re her girlfriend?”</p><p>“That’s right…” Gideon had a sinking feeling about what was coming next.</p><p>“So you two… What’s she like... you know...?” He asked, obviously intrigued.</p><p>She groaned. Why was her sex life always the source of such fascination?</p><p>“Tell you what.” She said. “I like it here, so I’ll be back. If I draw you a picture, I get free drinks? I’m quite the artist.”</p><p>The barman nodded eagerly.</p><p>The more Gideon got to know men, the more she liked them. So easy to understand.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Harrowhark Nonagesimus laughed. She’d never seen such a beautiful graveyard, such an astounding array of osseous matter waiting here, for her and her alone to give it form and purpose. She wouldn’t disappoint it. She would do it justice. The graves that called to her were each marked by a simple small cross or headstone, stretching out before her from horizon to horizon on the dark, shattered plain under a low, gunmetal sky. The lines they formed were a path that led her forward to infinity, to her destiny. What could she do but follow them?</p><p>The desert that preceded her arrival had been an irritation, but she had refined the palanquin construct that bore her to provide shelter from the sun and move quickly across the dunes in relative comfort. The amounts of thanergy available to her in this war ravaged world meant she was able to devise creations that could perform semi-autonomously, while she slept.</p><p>The Emperor’s guidance to her objective had been vague, but even if she had not learnt of the legend of the White Tower in the Dead City at the End of the World, she would have been drawn here. The thanergy contained in this place was astonishing, like nothing she had ever felt before. Hundreds of thousands had suffered and died on the grey featureless battleground she stood on. And yet, this was not her ultimate goal. She felt an even greater source calling her north, further into the darkness, towards the heart of the sin that had stricken and broken this planet.</p><p>Harrowhark stepped from the great palanquin, allowing it to decay into powdered bone and dust that was scattered by the cold winds that chilled her and ruffled her hair. She had no further need of it, and wanted to walk, to feel this sacred ground beneath her feet. Harrowhark brushed the graves with her fingertips as she walked among them. She would honor them.</p><p>First, she reached out to call forth eight hundred of the fallen; four hundred skeletons on her left, four hundred on her right. The ground erupted as they burst through the soil and coffins that had imprisoned them. Harrowhark trembled, the taste of blood suddenly in her mouth as she received and channeled their power, directing it to create two chaotic whirlwinds of bone, to remake them and mold them into two towering monuments to their bravery and sacrifice. Next she summoned hundreds more skeletal figures from the earth, to hoist her creations aloft and carry them alongside her in a march across the vast cemetery.</p><p>A light rain started to drizzle from the oppressive, low clouds. Perfect. Harrowhark turned her face to the sky, to allow the blood sweat to be washed from her and fall to the earth just as the blood of so many others had fallen in this place. So cleansed, she proceeded onward towards her goal.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Yet again Gideon was thankful that Harrow had gifted her the sunglasses with the sword, and even more so that she’d had the foresight to spend a significant part of her remaining funds on robes and pants that were more comfortable in the desert heat than the clothing she had brought from Domelle. There was no respite from the sun that beat down upon their caravan, a procession of around 20 vehicles of varying shapes and sizes, accompanied by the same number of crew members. Carrying a range of goods, some traveled on wheels, propelled by machines, while those owned by more prosperous merchants hovered just above the desert floor, supported by undulating waves of sand and soil, a trick of the terramancy that was a staple sorcery of these regions. Some of the luckier crew members traveled in the wagons, while most, like Gideon, rode alongside on Caras, the native beast of burden.</p><p>Garrix had indeed been keen to take her on as a hired sword, tasked with defending the caravan from marauding bandits and rogue terramancers. Suspiciously keen, Gideon thought, and she was none too impressed with the rest of the security detail, a team of 5 that looked desperately short on training or experience; farmers or traders with a sword and a need for hard cash. The deal suited her though. The trip to Etra had been unexpectedly expensive; it wasn’t a well traveled route, and the exchange rate on her Imperial credits had been a disaster, so adding to her funds instead of depleting them was a welcome change.</p><p>At first Gideon had thought herself fortunate that Harrow’s trail hadn’t been difficult to pick up but she was becoming uneasy at how simple it was to follow, consisting of increasingly bloody incidents and erratic behavior. Some of it could be put down to exaggeration and misunderstanding, but people were dying in rising numbers. At each step the relief at discovering her route was being tempered by a rising anxiety for her state of mind. Where did this stop? Was Harrow really becoming more unhinged? What terrible episode would she hear of next?</p><p>“Keep us safe, man-girl!” came the mocking call from the two hired swords riding with the wagons behind her, snapping her out of this disquieting train of thought.</p><p>Gideon was positioned roughly in the middle of the caravan that stretched a few hundred yards, winding across the flatter, more solid parts of the desert terrain that cut a path through the dunes that towered above them nearby. Sand in the Tetral desert was moved by forces other than wind, and the rapidly shifting nature of the peaks created huge navigational challenges; the cartomancer at the head of the caravan was the best paid, most important member of the company. Gideon had heard of places where the dunes flowed like waves at sea, propelled by huge terramantic forces generated by ancient buried artifacts, and passage was almost impossible.</p><p>“Don’t worry your pretty little head, girl-man.” She called in reply to the pair of brothers; Elan, older than her and Ely, younger. She’d taken an instant liking to them, but hoped she wouldn’t need to rely on them if shit went down; despite their good-natured bravado, she guessed they hadn’t had much experience in handling their conspicuously unmarked weapons.</p><p>Ely, the younger brother, picked up his pace to ride alongside her.</p><p>“Umm. Gideon.” He began. “So this demon girl is your… girlfriend?”</p><p>“Yeeesss...” Oh god, here it comes. She mentally braced for impact and readied a snark torpedo, locked and loaded on the youth beside her.</p><p>“So is she as bad as they say?” He ventured. “I mean, you seem ok, so why would you be with a demon?”</p><p>“Ely, you’ve risen a bit in my estimation.” She replied, relieved. “She’s not a demon to me. Quite the opposite. But she’s a complicated woman and there’s a side to her life I don’t get to see. A messy, nasty side.” She sighed. “And she’s had a rough time lately. Maybe she needs me to keep her feet on the ground, keep that other side from taking over, you know?”</p><p>The boy nodded then asked hesitantly: “Also, we were wondering. Do you… you know? What’s she like… umm...”</p><p>Gideon shook her head. “Blown it kiddo. Off you go, back to Elan.”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>The night came in fast and cold in the desert, and the crew needed to work fast to organize the vehicles around a central area where they would build campfires, while the elderly caravan master posted sentries and informed them of the shifts. They got the job done quicker tonight, the second of the trip. Gideon was on duty for the second half of the night, and after a surprisingly decent meal, she settled down near one of the fires, sleepy already. This had definitely been a good choice. Warm fire, full belly. Never mind a sketch, she owed that barman a good deal more. Great guy… So what would make a suitable gift for a horny old guy curious about how two girls, a demon and a warrior, get it on…</p><p>Under a cold, dark grey sky, Harrow stood on top of a vast mound of wriggling, writhing skeletons. She turned to Gideon and regarded her with lifeless black eyes, then opened her mouth to release a scream of -</p><p>Shouting. Running. Sounds of a struggle. Get up girl, fast. Sword out. Wake up!</p><p>She turned to the sound of metal on metal, behind her. Ely was defending desperately against the attack of an older man, dressed in black. Both used the curved sabers with ornate hilts that were the weapon of choice here. The boy was backpedaling, struggling to block the chopping blows raining down on him, and had seconds before he was outmaneuvered or overwhelmed. Gideon ran to him. His attacker was aware enough to immediately understand that the odds were turning against him and backpedaled. Not quick enough; she was around Ely and on him. The bandit wasn’t armored, so she had more options in how to use the range the two-hander gave her. They both feinted for a moment as he tried to bait her into making a big, sweeping, easily dodged and countered blow. She was too well drilled, too aware of the weakness of the larger sword to make that mistake, faking a downward diagonal slash to catch him with a glancing stab to the head. He grunted, bleeding, staggering backwards and Gideon pressed the advantage of the longer blade with another stab, catching him in the neck. Ely had positioned himself to rejoin the fight and the bandit’s face became a mask of fear as he understood his fate, outnumbered. The boy launched a strike, forcing him to block and leave the opening for Gideon to end it with a blow to the head.</p><p>“How many of them? Where?” She asked the boy, who stared back at her, wide eyed. She could hear shouting off to the west edge of the camp, nearer the dunes.</p><p>“Only a few, I think. That direction.” He looked in the direction of the shouting, scared, but keeping it together. Good kid.</p><p>“Ok. Stick with me. Have you seen Oron?” The head of the security detail and the most experienced. She should group up with him. If they had the numbers in any individual skirmish, they had a chance.</p><p>Ely had no chance to reply before Gideon dove into the shadows between two wagons and immediately found herself facing a group of at least 3 bandits, a few yards away. The width of the space was only about 3 yards, cramping the style of the longer blade, but the restriction would also make it harder for them to use their extra man. Decision time. She elected to take the initiative and force them to engage here, before they could back out and use their numbers to create a 2-on-1 elsewhere.</p><p>“With me! Take the guy on the left!” She called, rushing forwards, staying to the right and hoping Ely would get the idea and not freeze up. The raiders made the right move by going two abreast, but the taller man on the right was intimidated by the length of the zweihander and backed off too strongly from Gideon’s feint, making it easy for her to chop down her real target: his partner on the left, who was busy deflecting Ely’s saber. The third man was already backing away fast as Gideon and Ely combined to take down the second, Ely delivering a slicing blow to the man’s collarbone leaving him a moaning, gasping heap</p><p>Gideon grabbed the boy’s shoulder. Partly to get his attention, partly to stop him shaking. “Ely, you’re doing wonderfully.” She told him. “A natural born killer.”</p><p>Ely looked at her with wild eyes, breathing rapidly.</p><p>“In a good way, not a disturbed murderer type way.” She assured him. “Good at this moment in time anyway. In fact, you’re doing so well I’ll take a breather and just follow for a bit.”</p><p>His eyes grew even wider, his breathing, alarmingly, stopped.</p><p>“I’m kidding. That was supposed to be a pep-talk.” Gideon said and shrugged. “I’m used to working alone.” She offered by way of an apology.</p><p>She edged forwards cautiously towards the ends of the wagons. Where had that third guy gone? Waiting around the corner? More likely to have run.</p><p>She peeked around the vehicle’s end to see Elan, Ely’s older brother, walking towards them, nursing a wound in his sword arm. Ely ran to him, and Gideon followed.</p><p>“Any more? Where’s Oron?” She asked.</p><p>“Oron’s dead. We got two, but one of them ran him straight through with a pike. Fucker.”</p><p>“Shit.” Losing Oron was bad news. “We got three. How many?”</p><p>“Only six or seven, I think. At least one ran off into the dunes.”</p><p>“Should we follow?” Ely asked.</p><p>“No.” Gideon replied. “We’d better get everyone accounted for, then you and I check the perimeter and get on top of one of these things to keep watch. And you.” She gripped Elan’s unharmed shoulder. “Get what you’ve been itching for. Some alone time with that cute little nurse.”</p><p>“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Elan winced but smiled.</p><p>“Who’s that?” Ely said, indicating something behind Gideon, with his sword.</p><p>Gideon turned to see a figure advancing towards them across the sands, still some distance away, illuminated softly by the light of the campfires that seeped between the wagons. A younger man, tall and slender, pale face only partially visible behind a heavy hood.</p><p>Gideon moved to meet him, blade ready. “You want the same as your friends? The night is young and I’m just getting warmed up.”</p><p>He threw the hood back to reveal a shock of white hair and Gideon barely had time to register this and his pale, silver irises before his face suddenly twisted, hands moving to describe a deliberately intricate pattern, talking softly. Shit - a ‘mancer.</p><p>“Run!” She called, moving fast to get cover between the vehicles. They weren’t equipped to deal with a sorcerer in open combat. Their best chance was to hide and then take him by surprise. Mancers were devastating at range, but reaction-time was usually their weak point and close-quarters was where she might find an advantage.</p><p>Gideon had barely made it to cover behind a wheeled vehicle laden heavily with crates of varying sizes when everything went to hell. The sands shifted beneath her feet and gravity began to bend, twisting the world away from the vertical. Disoriented for a moment, too late she realized the wagon near her was turning and toppling, as the ground fell away. She needed to get clear of it to avoid being crushed, and turned to see the entire camp sliding around a pit that had opened up near its center, a whirlpool of sand, people shouting, vehicles falling. Darkness -</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>“You see?” The sailor shouted in despair, hanging onto the railing as the spray from the chilling waves swept over him again. “You cannot go further. We cannot land. It is impossible.”</p><p>“I see.” Said Harrowhark Nonagesimus. “I see that I have no further need of you. I shall proceed alone from this point.”</p><p>The dead city lay before her, the summits of its broken, empty towers lost in storm clouds that never broke, shrouding its streets in permanent darkness. The sea churned and frothed as it flung waves that broke violently against the rows of rocks that projected from the waters like broken teeth, blocking any approach to the shore.</p><p>The galley that Harrowhark had commissioned in the Port of Attar bucked in the waves, struck by another broadside that soaked the ranks of skeletal figures sitting impassive and motionless at the oars, awaiting her next command. The crew of sailors she’d commissioned with the ship were not quite so impassive as they started to suspect that the fate that lay ahead may not be worth the empty promises of gold made back in a warm, comfortable bar in Attar.</p><p>The Queen of Bones smiled and raised her hands, and her servants began to row again, harder now. The ship swung around to aim itself directly at the jagged, rocky barrier ahead and the skeletal slaves pulled ever harder, ever faster at the oars.</p><p>“What are you doing?” The Captain cried. “You’ll kill us all.”</p><p>“Not all.” Harrowhark replied.</p><p>The slaves of bone strained, driven beyond normal limits by a savage sorcery, to pull with inhuman strength at the oars with a force that splintered wood and bone, propelling the ship towards its target with even greater speed.</p><p>“For pity’s sake. Please.” The sailors called in terror to the dark witch, as they clung to rigging and balustrades. “We have families.” She stared ahead, giving no sign or hint that she had heard their pleas.</p><p>The galley crashed into the rocks, throwing human and inhuman crew members alike to the deck. Harrowhark picked herself up and walked quickly towards the front of the stricken boat. As she did so, she raised her arms, and the skeleton crew dissolved in a flurry of bones and splintered osseous pieces, flowing as if blown by an invisible gale to create a river of grey and white fragments, the chaos given form again as it reached the prow of the ship. Here it formed a single, straight, span, a path so white against the blackness of the city, sky and rocks that it appeared illuminated by a light of its own making. The path extended onward, growing with the addition of more material, to project far beyond the rocks that held the wrecked ship and create a bridgehead against an ancient pier of stone from which she could proceed.</p><p>Harrowhark Nonagesimus stepped onto the slender bridge of bone and strode forwards, winds whipping at the cloak that billowed in her wake. The despairing cries of the dying men behind barely reached her ears and concerned her even less.</p><p>Her objective lay ahead. The secret of the Necrolord, calling her from the heart of the City of the Dead. Her destiny, to bring life again to that which had been forgotten a myriad ago.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>“She lives.” A light, girlish voice nearby. Gideon was lying on her back, shaded, out of the sun. A gentle swaying motion like a ship. Dull pain in her left side, a sharper pain in her left leg. She opened her eyes.</p><p>She was in a darkened room, shafts of sun casting sharp bands of light between an array of loosely draped, swaying shades. Next to her, a girl, her long dark hair decorated with a network of delicate chains of gold, framing a small face that held the largest, greenest eyes Gideon had ever seen.</p><p>The girl smiled. “Do you know where you are?”</p><p>“No.” Gideon forced a reply. Damn, her head hurt bad. What the hell had happened to her?</p><p>“Do you know how you got here?”</p><p>Gideon struggled to get her mind in order, cast it back. Where had she been? “I was with a caravan, in the desert.” What else? There must be more. “We were attacked?”</p><p>“Hmm. You need a bit more of this. Take it. You’ll feel better.” The dark haired girl smiled again and offered to Gideon her upturned palm, one finger outstretched. Attached to the end of the finger and thumb were long golden claws, and in the concave curve of that claw a tiny mound of black dust, flecked with gold.</p><p>“Sniff it in. Go on.” She insisted.</p><p>Gideon did as instructed, putting her nostril to the claw and inhaling the dust. Her head buzzed, then fogged over as she lay back. Closing her eyes seemed like a good idea.</p><p>“Sleep, Gideon. Sleep.” The girl said.</p><p>Sleep. Great idea. She knew her name? How did she know her name...</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>“You’re back again.” Said a girlish voice nearby.</p><p>Gideon opened her eyes to take in the room. It was open on one side, ceiling covered by an array of multicolored drapes, illuminated by the gentle glow of the setting desert sun. The girl beside her, smiling down, had long dark hair decorated with a network of delicate chains of gold, framing a small face that held the largest, greenest eyes Gideon had ever seen.</p><p>“Poor thing.” She soothed. “Do you know how you got here?”</p><p>Gideon grappled with her mind, fighting to organize images and feelings into memories, but they danced out of reach, recollections and names slipping out of her grasp. Desert? Fighting? Nothing solid. And beyond that, further back, an even greater, cleaner void. Who was she?</p><p>“No. I don’t know.” A panic rising. Who the fuck was she? “I can’t remember anything. Where am I?” She struggled to sit up.</p><p>“Calm down. Easy.” The girl said, putting a hand to Gideon’s chest. “Can you remember your name?”</p><p>She thought for a moment. “Gideon.” A relief to find something in there.</p><p>“Ok. That’s good. I’m Isha.”</p><p>Isha smiled down at Gideon. “You’re lucky to be alive. You’re even luckier I found you. You won’t believe how lucky you are.” She giggled and leaned closer, not moving her hand from Gideon’s chest. “Lucky for me too.”</p><p>Gideon became aware of a dull pain in her left leg and the back of her head. “What happened?”</p><p>“I think you were in a convoy taking goods across the desert.” Isha replied. “To or from Attar, I can’t tell. You’d strayed into House Abran territory, and those paranoid, silver eyed mongrels hate strangers, hate everyone really. Looked like they’d trashed your entire caravan.”</p><p>“It was purely by chance I found you. You’d been squished by some heavy crates. You’d have died in the sun if I hadn’t taken you in.” She said, sounding quite pleased with herself.</p><p>“Thanks.” Gideon said, still taking in her surroundings. She was lying on a large, plush sofa in a room that was full of what looked like workbenches covered in elaborate brass and copper instruments, tiny ornate chests and glass jars containing gems of various hues. The room seemed to be in motion, and every so often the rays of the setting sun would shift to peek in from between dunes, and send sparks of color reflecting from the assorted objects, scattered across the walls and ceiling. One of the scintilla glinted off a large, flat metallic object lying propped up against a bench; a two handed sword. A hint of remembrance, of blood and fury. Hers?</p><p>“Let’s take a look.” Isha said, and leaned over Gideon to pull her shirt up and away from her left side to reveal a mass of bruising and redness. “Goodness me.” She said, a frown on her face as she ran her hands gently over tender skin. “You heal very fast.” She pressed a little on the injured side, then on Gideon’s stomach. “How does that feel?” She breathed, and ran the tip of the golden claw attached to her index finger across the other girl’s abdomen.</p><p>“Fine. A little sore.” Gideon replied. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with Isha touching her like that; she had a fleeting feeling someone would be very unhappy about it. But who?</p><p>A shout in an unfamiliar language came from above, and the dark haired girl raised her head to look outside.</p><p>“I need to go. Take this - you’ll feel better.” Isha moved to one of the workbenches and opened a tiny brass container to pour a minute amount of dust onto the end of a golden claw. At her feet a pair of lion cubs, no larger than a domestic cat. Gideon could hear them ticking and whirring as they moved, a little stiffly, she noticed.</p><p>Isha turned to Gideon and offered the dust again. This time the blue of a summer sky, laced with gold.</p><p>Gideon inhaled it and her head swam for a moment before it suddenly cleared, her thoughts felt as clean and sharp as they’d ever been in her entire life. She’d didn’t know what had happened to her and how she’d got here, but it didn’t really matter; some bad things had happened and she’d fallen on her feet. In style. This was wonderful. Isha was so super friendly, really helpful and actually pretty hot. She liked the way she touched her. How lucky could a girl get?</p><p>“Rest. We’ll eat later.” Isha said, rising to leave. She wore very little other than an array of thin, beautifully crafted gold chains that criss-crossed her slender body to create a shimmering web, and long flowing skirt that matched the blackness of the hair that fell to her waist.</p><p>“Wait. Where am I?” Gideon asked.</p><p>“You are aboard my yacht, the Endless Ocean.” Isha replied. “I am Princess Isha of House Ixa. Rest and regain your strength, Gideon, for I am on a quest, and I think you can help me.”</p><p>The Princess smiled. “We’re going to be best friends, you and I. I can tell.”</p><p>“A quest. Cool. I think I like those.” Gideon sprawled back on the sofa as Isha left, to watch colored fragments of reflected light dance across the ceiling. She smiled. This was where she was meant to be.</p><p>Everything was working out fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for getting to the end. I really hope you enjoyed it!</p><p>2 chapters down, 2 to go. Now we're really getting down to it. </p><p>I can't believe I've got myself into this. Not stopping though :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Tower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Had she ever been aboard a vessel like The Endless Ocean before? Had she stood at the stern of some other craft, looking along its length to the dunes ahead, the wind ruffling her hair? Her hair; Gideon reached up to run fingers through it and had the feeling that it was longer than it had ever been, but how could she be sure when the past was a mystery, hidden from her? </p><p>She felt adrift on an island both physical and spiritual. The Endless Ocean was all she had known after awakening, and beyond that, her memory a void that mirrored the empty desert outside the craft. How could she know what secrets were hidden in either of them?  </p><p>The vessel was about 30 yards, stem to stern, constructed from dark wood in, to Gideon’s eyes, an elegant, expensive looking style. It glided across the sands smoothly, at a leisurely pace no faster than the trot of a Caras. Decorated sparsely with gilded gold and glass, the upper decks were shaded by canopies of silken fabric in a hue of green that she suspected had been chosen to match the eyes of the Princess. It was under one of these canopies that Isha and an elderly man - one of only three crew that Gideon had seen - were deep in discussion, hunched over a pile of scrolls and maps. </p><p>After some minutes Isha turned from the meeting and walked to her, a welcoming smile on her small, angular face and a glint in her emerald eyes. Dressed much as when Gideon had seen her on awakening, long skirts and short top in gauzy, translucent black, adorned with gold chains, rings and bracelets, she coordinated with the vessel perfectly. </p><p>“Sleeping beauty awakes! How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Hungry.” Gideon replied truthfully.</p><p>Isha laughed. “Well that’s a good sign. Honestly, I’m surprised to see you up and walking. You must have the constitution of a Caras.”</p><p>"I feel like I've been sat on by one." Gideon mused, uncertainly. "Are you sure that isn’t how I ended up here?”</p><p>“Still problems with your memory? Don’t concern yourself,” Isha said soothingly. “I’m sure it will return in time. We’ll take care of you until then.” </p><p>She smiled and took Gideon’s hand. “Come on. Breakfast calls!” Isha said happily, leading the taller girl toward the prow of the craft, where Gideon could see a middle-aged woman arranging cushions on a throw, positioned around a cluster of bowls and eating implements. The aroma of something that was definitely not gruel wafted the length of the Endless Ocean to set Gideon’s mouth watering, and push concerns to the back of her mind. The way to her heart was definitely via her stomach. </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“This is wonnerful. Zactly what I needed. Than oo.” Gideon mumbled through a mouth full of unidentifiable but delicious dumpling. Sat in the shade created by the billowing green canopy, shielded from the intense desert sun while being cooled by a gentle breeze, travelling on The Endless Ocean was an exceedingly comfortable experience. Her stomach, possessing a memory all of its own that was undisturbed by blows to the head, told her this was the best meal she’d had in some time. Was it to be the first of many? Past and future both unknowable.    </p><p>“Gosh. You have the appetite of a Caras in addition to the constitution. I think we’ll need to schedule another stop for supplies.” Isha declared as she picked delicately at the dish before her.</p><p>“Sorry. Recovery food.” Gideon replied. “This thing is amazing.” She said, indicating the Endless Ocean with her free hand. “I don’t think I’ve been on one like it before. Hard to be sure though.”</p><p>“I doubt it.” Isha regarded the vessel with satisfaction. “There aren’t many like it. It’s my own design. It’s awfully difficult to make something of this size self-propel, you know. You need some very specific, advanced terramancy, and a dash of flectomancy.”</p><p>Gideon looked blank.</p><p>“Flectomancy is the sorcery of machines.” Isha explained. “Not my area of expertise, but I had some excellent help.” She smiled. “I’m a terramancer, the best my House has produced for generations. The Endless Ocean runs on terrergy extracted from deep inside Etra. Magma flows, tectonic and seismic activity, sources of that sort.”</p><p>“Impressive. Doesn’t seem to need much of a crew.” Gideon observed.</p><p>“Just the four of us. My faithful old retainers.” Isha sighed. “They’d die for me. Not that I deserve it.” A wistful look crossed her face.</p><p>“And they shouldn’t have to.” She continued. “I’m hoping you can help with that.” Isha smirked and gave her a mischievous look. “That and a few other things.”</p><p>“Ok. So what’s the deal?” Gideon sighed, straightening up and leaning back a little. “I should have known a breakfast this good couldn’t be completely free.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t say it like that.” Isha pouted. “This is going to be good for both of us.” </p><p>“It’s like this.” The Princess began. “I’m the rightful heir to the House of IXa, the oldest and grandest House in the Mid-Realms. Not long ago we ruled all of this,” She indicated the sun baked sands. “From coast to coast.” </p><p>“But there have been some bad years. Mistakes were made.” She looked away, out to the desert. </p><p>Gideon watched the girl become suddenly lost in reflection, and wondered where this path was taking her, the secrets it would reveal and the dangers it would bring. The feeling was at once thrilling and disquieting. Eventually, Isha took a breath and turned her attention back. “Our adversaries took advantage of this. And so, here I am.” She gestured dramatically. “On my grand quest to restore our House to its rightful place. I’m searching for one of the Four Relics. Don’t laugh. Ridiculous, I know, but believe it or not, I think I’m close”</p><p>"Hang on." Gideon bit into another dumpling. Wow, what was in these? "If I am to heap the ridicule on your plan that it obviously richly deserves, you'll need to explain this Relic thing."</p><p>“You must be the first person I’ve told about the Relic that hasn’t said I’m crazy. It seems a shame to spoil your ignorance.” Isha sighed. “But I’ll keep it short so as to prevent you consuming our entire stock of Caras testicle dumpling.”</p><p>Gideon choked at this then recovered to stare out at the passing desert. </p><p>“Suddenly not to your taste?” Isha inquired playfully.</p><p>“They’re still delicious. Something just came back to me.”</p><p>“Oh.” A flicker of concern on the Princess’ face.</p><p>“I think this is breaking a lifelong vow.” Gideon declared solemnly. “To have nothing to do with anything or anyone’s testicles.”</p><p>“A girl after my own heart.” Said Isha with a sly smile. “As soon as I saw you, I knew you were a gift from the gods.” She raised her face and hands to the heavens in mock worship. “I shall make offerings to thank them for their favor.”</p><p>A call came from the old man at the map table, beckoning Isha over as he used a battered looking telescope to survey the way ahead.  </p><p>“Some tricky navigation today, but it’ll be worth it.” Isha rose from the cushions. “We’ll get back to this.”</p><p>“Soon, I hope, or I shall worry myself sick fretting about this mysterious deal of yours and whether it’s going to keep me from more fantastic breakfasts.”</p><p>“You haven’t tasted the dinners yet.” Isha declared before sashaying away from the dining area, hips swaying, skirts flowing. </p><p>Gideon raised her hands in prayer and looked to the heavens. “My stomach pays homage. I must be the most devout bitch on this planet. Maybe I’m a nun? Give me a sign.”</p><p>Bending over the map table, the Princess looked back over her shoulder and gave Gideon a wicked grin, sunlight filtering through diaphanous fabric to lay bare every curve and angle of her slender silhouette.</p><p>After appreciating this sight for a few, long seconds, Gideon looked skyward again. “Right. Got it. Thanks for clearing that up.”  </p><p>  </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The day passed lazily, the vessel cruising a winding path through ever taller dunes. Isha and Mantoz, the old Cartomancer, spending hours in discussion over a variety of hot, brewed beverages. Often, the Princess would produce a gem, dangling from a golden chain, to suspend it over a map and pause, eyes closed in concentration. Gideon knew divining when she saw it, and wondered what Isha could be seeking. </p><p>She also had a strong feeling that she wasn’t the type to sit around all day watching the scenery pass by and embarked on a schedule of pull-ups, push-ups and crunches. Felt right, aches disappearing, so this was obviously what she was accustomed to. Another discovery, another piece falling into place.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Isha wasn’t kidding about the quality of the dinner. Gideon reclined opposite the Princess, watching the light fade from the undulating dunes surrounding them and reflected for a moment; whatever she’d done, wherever she’d been before she awoke here, could it have been better than this? She’d been a hired sword, defending a bunch of strangers, out in the middle of nowhere. That doesn’t sound like much of a life. Did she have family? Friends? Lovers? Was she missed? </p><p>“Back to the deal.” Isha said, breaking Gideon from her reverie. </p><p>“Come on then. Why do you need me here?”</p><p>“Well, as you’ve already experienced, even if you don’t remember it, there are all kinds of dangers out here.” Isha explained. “Vagabonds and bandits. Rogue terramancers. I can hardly expect old Mantoz to see them off. I need a fighter, and look at you; a warrior if ever I saw one. That ridiculous huge sword. And those biceps.” She raised an eyebrow. “They look like elevens to me.”</p><p>“Thanks, they are. So you need a bodyguard.” Gideon said. Bodyguard; that had a familiar ring to it.</p><p>“Indeed. I like your choice of words.”  </p><p>“Ok.” Gideon paused to consider this. “The prospect of facing down a bunch of cut-throats doesn’t seem to be filling me with fear. And I can hear my big, beautiful - it doesn’t like you calling it ridiculous - blade calling me all the way up here. I think this kind of job is my forte. Plus my stomach would probably reach up through my throat and slap me hard if I dared deprive it of more dinners like these, so, ok. Deal.”  </p><p>“Well that was easy.” Isha went on all fours and slinked across to Gideon until their faces were separated by only a few inches. </p><p>“And I’ve not even got to the best part.” She breathed, her bright green irises almost luminous in the fading orange light. Gideon didn’t back away. Isha had dropped enough hints. This was one last test, one last step.</p><p>“My body requires constant guarding. Tireless, considerate to my needs. Day <em> and </em> Night.” She kissed Gideon quickly, as if she were afraid the other girl might reject the touch if given the chance. </p><p>Golden eyes met emerald for a long moment, savoring the seconds before they embarked together on a path that seemed both inevitable and risky, exhilarating. </p><p>“All considered, this sounds like a dirty, dangerous job.” Gideon said. </p><p>“It’s true. Dangerous by day, dirty by night.” Isha whispered. “I’ll make sure of that.”</p><p>“However, rough as it sounds, in lieu of a working memory, other parts of my body - I won’t be specific which - are telling me that rescuing hot Princesses in distress is a good idea.”   </p><p>“Thank goodness.” Isha raised the back of her golden ringed hand to her forehead. “I am feeling a little distressed.” She rose, smiling, to take Gideon by the hand, pulling her towards the stairs that descended to her quarters in the lower decks. </p><p>Was she the kind of girl that is led, or leads? On impulse, Gideon swept the Princess up into her arms, the loss of control surprising Isha for a moment before she decided to enjoy it, giggling, dark strands falling across her face.</p><p>After crossing the workshop she’d awoken in the day before, Gideon nudged open the doors to the bedroom beyond. The interior was invitingly illuminated by the amber glow of the fading day that filled the room through the open sides of the craft. All was silent aside from the gentle rush of the sands below, shifted by sorcery. She lowered Isha to the bed and kissed her.</p><p>“Wait.” Isha rolled onto her front to reach for a tiny, ornate chest on a bedside table, flipping it open to take some objects out, her attention on these for a moment. </p><p>She turned back to Gideon. “Potions and powders are another one of my talents. It’s all related to Terramancy, you know. They come from the earth. You’ll see how, tomorrow.” She offered her palm, on it two tiny piles of dust; one pink, one blue. “Take it. You’ll love it, I promise.” </p><p>Gideon breathed them in. A rush of euphoria to her head and, lower down, a warm, delicious hunger. She lay back on the bed, allowing the sensations to envelop her. “Oh. Wow. Fuck. I am in desperate need of one of those dirty nights you mentioned.”</p><p>Isha inhaled her own dose and rolled over to lie on top of the other girl. “Blue for up here.” Isha kissed her, not quickly this time, but savoring the taste, the touch of her lips. “And pink for down here.” Sliding fingers into underwear, eyes on Gideon’s, smiling, enjoying watching the effect of her touch as she found her. Gideon gasped as the effect of the powders, Isha’s practiced hands and her closeness overwhelmed her senses. The Princess’ hair smelled of almonds, her touch hotter than the desert sun, her body pressing against hers with a promise of pleasures yet to come. Soon it filled her too much, too intense. Building to a trembling release so quickly. </p><p>“So fast.” Isha grinned. “You’re not used to this stuff.”</p><p>“The night is young, my Penumbral Princess.” Gideon breathed, a little disgruntled at succumbing so quickly. Wait, had she called someone that before? “Let’s see how long you last then.”   </p><p>“This sounds as if it’s going to get competitive.” Isha detached the skirt to cast it aside onto the floor and sprawled forward on the silken sheets, demurely deviant, a joyful, hungry tease, displaying herself. </p><p>“Well here I am. Come on, Warrior Gideon.” She insisted breathlessly. “Use those strong hands of yours and please me, now. I’m ever so, ever so ready.”</p><p>The Princess of potions and powders lasted only a little longer than her bodyguard before yielding to the combination of insistent caress and stimulants, pushing Gideon away to be alone with the aftertaste of euphoria.</p><p>Gideon lay watching the rise and fall of her chest in the darkness. “You don’t seem too used to it yourself.”</p><p>“It’s been a while. Out of practice.” Isha replied between breaths. “And you’re good at this.” </p><p>She turned to look at Gideon. “It was fate that I found you. We’re destined to be together.”</p><p>“Shut up and kiss me, terratramp.”</p><p>Despite her insistence that she needed around the clock protection, Isha proved more than capable of defending herself against a powerful competitor. The night stretched on until Etra’s single moon cast a silver light across two sleeping girls.</p><p>Gideon awoke, her face buried in long, dark hair. And she remembered. Another girl, hair still dark, but shorter, much shorter. A slight figure lying next to her, turned away, pale skin lit by moonlight, the roar of the ocean outside and a terrible aching fear in her belly that she would never see the girl again. Who was she? An anxiety rose from nowhere, without reason. Who was this girl and why was the memory of her so uncomfortable and yet filled with a yearning?</p><p>Gideon got up from the bed to stand in the ghostly light, unable to lie still any longer. This was all wrong, all wrong. But why did she feel this way? She paced back and forth as Isha awoke and watched.</p><p>“I think I remember things. A girl with short hair.” Gideon said, continuing to pace. “I don’t know why, but I don’t think I should be here. I don’t know. Shit.” She’d never had a panic attack before. Was this what it felt like? Her emotions spiralling out of control, a growing sense of alarm driven by memories just beyond reach. “It’s not right. I don’t understand. This is really fucking confusing.”         </p><p>“Oh Gideon. Damn.” Isha moved quickly to the miniature chest by the side of the bed, searching it and producing another tiny pile of powder on her fingertip, this time black, flecked with gold.</p><p>“Take this. Just a little. You’ll feel better.” Isha insisted, concern lining her face.</p><p>Gideon looked into iridescent emerald eyes, and inhaled the dust. Isha pulled her toward the bed, which promptly turned over and leapt up to smack her hard on the side of the head. Rest, sleep, a good idea. Fingers in her hair and a soothing voice as darkness swept worries aside: “I’m sorry. Stay with me Gideon the Gorgeous. Stay with me...”</p><p> </p><p>---------------</p><p> </p><p>The city was a cadaver, Harrowhark reflected, as she walked its empty streets in solitude. Crumbling buildings its bleached, decaying bones reaching up to a stone sky. Barren streets its dried up arteries. Long forsaken, abandoned, a place of regret, guilt, uncomfortable truths and little else. But not for her. For her this was a place of possibilities. Millions had died here in the space of a few terrible seconds, killed with an evil efficiency by a weapon that left nonliving matter intact. They had died in their places of work, the streets, in bed, in each other’s arms. She could feel their confusion and fear, their disbelief and their anger, frozen in place in the texture and taste of the thanergy that had lain here undisturbed for a myriad, waiting.  </p><p>She opened her senses further to the energy surrounding her and for a moment, found herself overwhelmed. The feel of the power flowing through her was intoxicating, the potential dizzying, but how best to use it?</p><p>Stay focused, Harrow. The mission, remember the mission. The Emperor Undying had described her objective, but recalling its exact location was beyond even his prodigious memory, and this vast dead cityscape was far larger than she had imagined. Harrowhark hesitated, frozen for a moment in indecision, considering her options. Higher was better, but the buildings were in too advanced a state of decay to enter and ascend them safely. At street level, she could wander this maze for weeks without chancing upon her goal. </p><p>Fear and bitterness rose like bile in her throat. This was hopeless, a fools errand and she would starve or die of thirst before fulfilling her duty. Had the Necrolord knowingly sent her to her death, or had he simply miscalculated? Was he in his quarters in Domelle raising a glass and having a sly chuckle at how he’d rid himself so cleanly of that troublesome Lyctor? No, not after what he’d told her. Have faith, Harrow, have faith. </p><p>After skirting around a block of masonry and twisted metal the size of a house, fallen from high above, she saw it. The tower was distant, but there was no mistaking it, pristine and perfect, in an annihilated, grey landscape of decay. Its spotless glass panels shone in the dull light from the overcast sky, a shining pillar, a beacon calling her forward.</p><p>Success was close now. Stay strong. You’ve come too far to fail.  </p><p> </p><p>--------------------</p><p> </p><p>Early morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom, rousing Gideon into a new day. An aching head kept her on comfortable sheets a few moments longer, as memories of the previous night leaked back into her consciousness. A fantastic dinner, yes. Her stomach wasn’t going to let her forget that. A deal to be Isha’s bodyguard, affirmative. Carrying Isha to the bed, yup. The pink powder, oh hell yeah, and the feel of Isha’s fingers where the potion hit hardest… fuck yes, the memory of that was dispelling the headache and getting her hot again. And after that… nothing. Just nothing. WTF. It couldn’t have ended there. She’d passed out? How much had she had to drink? How could she not recall sex with a super hot, horny AF Princess? Now she thought about it, it was possible - actually, likely, given that she was exceedingly attractive herself - that she’d forgotten a shit-ton of great sex, but this new injustice cut deep. Everyone knew Princesses were kinkier than normal girls, particularly sorceror Princesses, once they let it go. </p><p>“Life’s a bitch.” Gideon said to the ceiling. And then just to clear up any possible confusion: “I’m not talking to you, gods. Great work, you guys. Outstanding.”  </p><p>“Remember breakfast, Gideon. Do not forsake me…” her stomach whispered. Gideon sat bolt upright. Priorities. She marched through the empty bedroom and workshop, pausing to take the two-hander, its weight familiar in her grasp. Better get working on some drills today.</p><p>The Endless Ocean was stationary, at rest on a flat, sandy plain partially surrounded by dunes of varying size. On deck, there were only two women and no breakfast. Even worse, one of them was the retainer whose job it was to prepare meals, and both were occupied, studying the horizon through telescopes. </p><p>Gideon had a rush of instinctive understanding; she was the kind of person that would assert herself and solve this desperate crisis. </p><p>“Ahem. Breakfast?” She called, and to head off any language problems, pointed at her stomach.</p><p>The cook made a shooing motion at her, then pointed to the sands outside the craft before returning to her observations.</p><p>It was only then that Gideon noticed Isha and Mantoz below. The old man was digging a shallow trench in the sands using a large shovel, while Isha watched, holding a parasol. He paused to wipe his brow and say a few words to the Princess, who produced the same divining gem on a golden chain Gideon had seen the previous day. She held it at arm’s length, dangling and spinning the stone which glittered as it reflected the low sun, then spoke to Mantoz briefly, who continued to dig.</p><p>This continued for another minute or two, during which Gideon set about some warm-up exercises and drills with the two-hander. The practice felt like a welcoming handshake with an old friend, the resumption of a glorious relationship. She was interrupted by a shout of triumph from below. Mantoz was smiling, resting on the shovel and holding a jagged black stone almost the size of his fist which he handed over to Isha, who examined it closely. </p><p>As the pair turned back to the craft, the cook called out and pointed to the horizon. Gideon wasn’t familiar with the language, but didn’t need to be - the urgency of the call said all that was needed. She spotted a small craft that had just rounded a dune and was heading towards them at speed; about twenty to thirty seconds away. On it were three or four people, their posture that of men bearing arms. A glint of sun from polished metal confirmed the presence of weapons.  </p><p>Mantoz and Isha glanced back and then hurried to the ladder dangling from the side of the Endless Ocean, climbing quickly. Gideon readied the zweihander. What would their tactics be? It wouldn’t be easy to scale the sides of the ship, so they would use ranged weapons initially, then grappling hooks? The two women ran for cover below decks as Isha came up to Gideon and produced a small glass vial containing another of her powders, colored a deep, dark, blood red, pouring a quantity onto the tip of one finger.</p><p>“Take this, quick.” She offered the fingertip.</p><p>“What is it? And what will these guys do?”</p><p>“It’ll make you fight harder. They may try to burn us out, or they might just jump on and kill us.”</p><p>“They can try. Do you have one of these for every occasion?”   </p><p>“Take it!”</p><p>Gideon inhaled the blood red dust and turned her attention to the raiders, who were now upon them. Four of them, armed with sabres and axes, no armour aside from one clad in heavy leather, another with what appeared to be a bow on his back, a lit torch in a holder at his feet. Their craft was only a few yards long, and narrow, propelled by terramancy and clearly capable of much higher speeds than the Endless Ocean; they wouldn’t be able to outrun them. </p><p>But they wouldn’t need to; she could take these guys with her eyes closed. Gideon was conscious of the red powder narrowing her focus, accelerating her perceptions and skewing her thoughts to darker, colder dimensions. She felt stronger than ever, the ache of recent injuries disappeared. Slicing these hopeless fools into pieces was going to be fun. They’d fucked with the wrong amazon, and they’d presented her with an opening; they were lingering close to the larger vessel to attempt to board it through the large, open windows of Isha’s room. </p><p>The leap was a risk, but the danger of missing it never crossed Gideon’s mind. She jumped down from the upper deck of the ship to land on the end of the raiders’ craft with an impact that caused it to buck and sway as its mechanisms compensated to correct its attitude, and drove the breath from her. The bandits were forced to crouch and steady themselves, taken by surprise, expecting to be the aggressors in this conflict. </p><p>Seeing the uncertainty in their faces, Gideon knew the fight was hers to lose and pressed the initiative. The archer was closest, still finding his feet and not yet in a defensive stance, when she cleaved his head from his shoulders with one huge blow. Spectacular. A cry went up from a younger one at the far end of the boat. Son? Brother? Whatever. The narrow width of their craft meant she could take them one by one, as intended. Perfect. </p><p>She became aware of Isha cheering somewhere above and risked a glance up to see her, a look of glee in eyes the shade of bright jade. The guy with the leather armour and axe was next. He looked older, more experienced, and hefted his war-worn weapon like he meant it, but that didn’t help him. They were sluggish and clumsy, and she was an unstoppable engine of bloody, shining metal and fury. </p><p>The last of the four was younger than her, just a kid really. Terrified after watching the she-demon with golden eyes and flaming hair cleave his - friends? colleagues? - into a bloody mess. But he’d known what he was getting into, out in the desert with armed, hard, mean-eyed men looking for weaker prey. So, fuck it. She felt no pity, offered no mercy. The boy was dead at her feet. </p><p>Gideon took the ladder dangling down the side of the Endless Ocean and climbed carefully, lacking a sheaf for the two-hander. On deck, Isha regarded her with an expression she’d not seen before, a mix of awe and caution.</p><p>“I’ve seen a few bloody deaths in my time, but goodness me.” She said, the earlier elation gone. “I almost felt sorry for them.”</p><p>“I need a moment.” Gideon said through clenched teeth. “What the fuck did you give me?”</p><p>Isha backed off a little. “Take your time. It’ll wear off within the hour. Then I’ll show you.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>---------------</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>As the Emperor Undying had foretold, Harrowhark stood before the doors of the tower, two massive panels of shining glass, flush with the perfectly smooth, reflective surface of the building. She reached out with one finger towards the glass, but quickly stopped short of making contact, sensing the threat before it could inflict damage. The wards, as he’d described. Put in place millennia ago by the Necrolord himself. Fatally unbreakable to anyone but her, he had said. But he had elaborated no further. Damn, but he loved to be inscrutable, wrapping himself in mysteries. This was another test for her to prove herself worthy.</p><p>The tower was cut off from the world, physically and temporally. Nothing could touch it, nothing could spoil it, preserved in its perfection for all time, never aging, frozen in place.   </p><p>She took her time, probing the kaleidoscope of interlocking fields that comprised the wards, mapping out its subtle network of thanergy. She’d never seen the like; dazzling in its complexity, intimidating in its elegance, and her spirits sank. Why did he believe she could break it? Only her. </p><p>She’d had the privilege of experiencing his sorcery up-close a number of times. Could that be a factor? Cast your mind back. Remember, Harrow. </p><p>Her hands went to her wrists, recalling the searing pain that had pinned her in place, years ago. How could she forget. In one of her first encounters in The War Without End an enemy Allomancer had infected the silver bangles that she’d worn, fusing them with her skin and bones to inflict an agony that disabled her and threatened to turn the tide of battle. She had been fortunate that the Necrolord was observing and dispelled the sorcery. Just luck, or had she been his favorite even then? She’d learned from the experience and had never worn the bracelets to battle again, but they had sentimental value, given to her by her parents, and she’d had a sliver of the metal fashioned into an earring, which she wore to this day. </p><p>The silver had had an intimate contact with his sorcery, and he would have been aware of this. Could she locate his signature, from so long ago, in such a small sample? She removed the tiny ring from her ear, held it, and stilled herself, alone in the silence of the city of the dead, listening for traces. It was there, unmistakeable. She held the ring to the doors, pushing her own spells through it, into the wards to create a resonance, bringing his signatures to prominence in the network of energy. Eight places, arranged in a circular pattern. Eight different possible vectors of attack to undo the wards. But if she were to interject her dispel into the wrong one, the thanergy of the entire network could be fed back into her with fatal consequences. </p><p>Why would she be uniquely qualified to break this? The earring was a part of it, but not all. He had prepared her for this, somehow. But when would he have had the opportunity? The meeting at his quarters. The walk to the gardens. She had taken it as a sign that she was being taken into his confidence in some way, but was there more? Remember, Harrow, remember. Could there be anything of significance? The mechanical devices, the greenhouse, the balcony. The gardens that he had stood and studied for some time, wordlessly inviting her to do the same.  </p><p>She recalled that below the balcony had been a statue of a woman surrounded by a number of small fountains. Had there been eight? Possibly. Was any one of them distinctive in some way? The woman had been facing away and to the left. The asymmetry had stuck in her mind. Very few had stood on that balcony, in the inner sanctum of the Necrolord Prime, to observe the statue from that perspective, and fewer still would have possessed material containing his thanergetic signature. These must be the two keys.</p><p>Harrowhark readied the dispel, and with a silent prayer, put her finger to the upper left signature in the formation of eight and allowed the spell to flow into the wards.</p><p>The intricate construction of sorcery that had held time and touch at bay collapsed neatly into itself and Harrow sensed the tower become a part of this world again, its isolation at an end. She pushed the doors open and they swung smoothly inward, allowing her to walk into the lobby, the click of her boots on the spotless marble floor echoing around the cavernous, lifeless space. Dust motes resumed their slow, swirling dance in the air, trees in the atrium picking up photosynthesis where they had left off millennia ago. The bodies sat in chairs and sprawled on floors, dead only minutes in their timeframe, would soon start to decay.</p><p>What next? Food; she was ravenous. It wasn’t difficult to locate a restaurant and steal the meals of deceased diners. The desserts were heaven itself, though she ate sparingly; best be careful when the length of her stay here was unknown.           </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Room 1004. Harrowhark silently chastised herself for ever doubting that she would arrive at her destination. One of the constructs she had fashioned from the bones of the dead on the ground level removed the door from its hinges with little effort, and she entered the room, the shrine created by the Emperor Undying so long ago.</p><p>At the far side of an unremarkable apartment, a large, floor to ceiling window. And at the window a bed. On the bed, an old woman, eyes closed, her expression relaxed as if in peaceful slumber. Harrow walked to her, tip toeing reverentially across panels of imitation wood to observe her a moment, aware that hers were the first eyes upon the woman since the Necrolord had created this monument to her. </p><p>She turned her attention to the view from the window. It was as described, allowing for the intervening millennia. A space containing no decaying structures and some vegetation; that must be the park. And the tree, surviving still, though stunted and worn down by a climate that no longer favored it. The final resting place of the woman before her. </p><p>As she stood by the bed and the woman, Harrow’s mind returned to the morning she had left life behind and commenced her exile. She had watched Gideon sleeping for what seemed like an eternity, afraid that she would wake but scared to leave her, torn, rooted to the spot forever before summoning the strength to turn and walk and not look back. She remembered the start of the sickening ache, of being cut off from something she needed to breathe, to exist and how that pain reduced the journey from Domelle to Etra to a dismal blur. </p><p>She’d done well since her arrival to hold back thoughts of Gideon, losing herself in the mission, the process of getting from place to place, closer to her goal, whatever the cost in lives and her humanity. Harrowhark was aware that she’d made some questionable choices, but she had succeeded in numbing herself to them, separating them from the girl she believed she was. The War had taught her how to do that all too well. </p><p>Forget that. The mission. Back to the mission. One last step, and she was done, perhaps forever.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Gideon paced the decks as the Endless Ocean resumed its journey. She exercised and drilled, until she felt her mind shift to broaden its focus, aches from previous injuries return, and a few new ones emerge in her feet and ankles; that had been quite a drop from the deck into the raiders’ craft. Defending the craft and crew from bad guys was what she’d agreed to, and she knew in her bones that she’d killed before, but she had felt nothing as she slaughtered them, save the sating of a hunger. Was this who she was? Or was it the effect of Isha’s powder?  </p><p>She descended the staircase to the workshop, where the Princess sat on a stool at the main desk, an array of instruments before her, inspecting a small black gem through a multi-lensed monocle. She held the stone delicately between golden claws attached to fingers and thumb. The large black stone Mantoz had unearthed was held in a brass vice nearby.     </p><p>Isha noted her arrival but continued to study the gem. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Better.” Gideon said grudgingly, taking a seat on the expansive sofa behind the Princess. “So what was that stuff?” </p><p>“It’s called Strongblood.” Isha explained. “It’s mostly made from a semi-precious stone called a Ren’s Eye, but the physical material isn’t what makes it so potent. The effect comes from the terramancy infused into the powdered gem. That’s the case for all of the potions you can see here.” She gestured to the racks of vials and tubes containing dust of every imaginable hue. “Creating the very specific sorcery that can adhere to a particular combination of materials requires talent and craft. I’ve been doing this since I was ten.”</p><p>“Ok. The pink potion was… fine.” Gideon said. Isha glanced at her to raise an eyebrow. “More than fine then, the little I remember. But I don’t appreciate being played with, Isha. That red one is dangerous. I would have jumped in there regardless of how many there were, and kept swinging until they took my arms off. That might suit you, but not me.”</p><p>Isha placed the dark stone on the bench before her and turned to Gideon, removing the monacle. “You’re right. I apologise. I…” She rubbed her forehead, eyes down. “In the heat of the moment, I may have given you too much. I can be overconfident.” She looked away. “You’d think I would have learned by now.”  </p><p>“Ok.” Gideon said. There she goes again; the Princess had that downcast, faraway look in her eye. “But I’m intrigued to know what else you’ve got here. All of this can’t be to satisfy your various appetites, as important as they are.“ She smiled, in an attempt to lighten the mood. </p><p>“Quite right.” Isha brightened a little and looked around the cluttered room. “This has a greater purpose.”</p><p>“The Relic I told you about yesterday,” She continued. “Is buried. Deep in the sands. It took me years to find it. Retrieval is difficult because of the depth and the vortex it generates, which makes it dangerous for The Endless Ocean to approach.” </p><p>“It would be impossible for me to bring it to the surface by myself, but there is a potion - Etron - that greatly enhances a terramancer’s ability to harness terrergy. The stone we found this morning is the key ingredient, and this particular one” She tapped the large black gem with the tip of a gold claw. “Is the largest, purest example I’ve ever found. The mechanisms used by The Endless Ocean can access vast amounts of terrergy deep inside Etra. Etron might enable me to channel enough of it to be successful.”</p><p>“Might?” Gideon slouched on the sofa, fatigue overtaking her.</p><p>“Nobody’s seen the Relic for millennia, and we can’t be sure what it is exactly. And there are… risks associated with using the potion.” A half-smile flickered across her face. “You don’t get something for nothing.”   </p><p>“Yeah. The comedown from that Strongblood is hitting right about now.” Gideon thought for a moment. “No, wait, it’s lack of breakfast. Your witches brew completely killed my appetite. That evil stuff is even more dangerous than I thought.”</p><p>“My poor, fearless defender.” Isha crossed over to the sofa and gave Gideon a peck on the forehead. “We must ensure you are properly fed and watered.”</p><p>“For the first, and hopefully last, time in my life, I require testicles.” Gideon said. “Wrapped in dough, lightly spiced and deep fried, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon spent much of the day dozing in the comfortable surroundings of the workshop, lulled by the sounds of Isha cutting and grinding the inky black gem, the occasional call from Mantoz above and the flap of billowing drapes moved by the hot, dry breeze from the bright landscape outside.</p><p>Dinner didn’t disappoint, and neither did what followed, though Isha adjusted the dose of pink down a little, and the wine upwards. </p><p>“A girl like you,” Isha growled drunkenly, stretching on green silken pillows, “knows just how to please a girl like me. Make me purrrr.”</p><p>“Never mind purr, you’ll be meowing by the time I’m finished, Princess Purity.”</p><p>Isha giggled uncontrollably. “Promises, Promises for Princess Purity’s Pussy.” </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>The final act of her promise to the Necrolord, Harrow stooped to scoop up a handful of soil and cast it into the grave dug beneath the stunted tree. The dirt spattered onto the sheet covering the lost lover of the Emperor Undying. A woman who had been abandoned in a cold, dark place filled with the dead. Was this to be her fate also? There was nothing to do but wait, and hope, and have faith. But faith was so hard to hold onto, alone in this place of silent desolation, when she felt so small and insignificant in the face of its majestic ruins. </p><p>Gideon. Harrow’s fate was in her hands now. Where was she? Had she ever left Domelle? Was she still there now, content, in the arms of another? Or did she cry alone in the night,  remembering her? Could she have made it to Etra? But even if she had, the journey to the city at the edge of the world would be so hard, with so many ways to perish or fall from the path. It was too much to wish, too much to hope for. </p><p>Memories, unbidden, filled her mind. The ridiculous, uncontrollable flame colored hair that would never lie down however much Harrow tried to tidy it, but oh, she loved to try. The silly smirk after one of her snarky put-downs, god she thought she was so hilarious. Sometimes she was. Those gorgeous golden eyes that saw through the facade of Lyctor and Necrosaint and Reverend Daughter to see the girl inside, to see things in her that nobody else could. The feel of her skin against her -</p><p>Stop. There’s no comfort in memories, only despair. Kill it Harrow. Kill hope. Feel nothing. </p><p>A soft rain started to fall as the construct finished covering the grave under the skeletal branches of the tree. Harrowhark turned her face to a sky the color of ashes, to let the rain wash away salty tears. </p><p>      </p><p> </p><p>---------------</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Gideon lay on silken sheets in The Endless Ocean and dreamed of scything through ranks of men, their faces frozen in dismay as she cut them down. </p><p>She didn’t dream of the girl that had inspired such feelings of anguish and longing the previous night. The skinny, pale girl with a difficult disposition, short dark hair and eyes like night. She didn’t dream of her at all. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You made it to the end! Woo! You rock!</p><p>Didn't plan to break it here, but how was I to know that my - I thought - short list of plot points for chapter 3 would come to around 14-15000 words. I'm new at this :-/  </p><p>Dunno how I ended up here, but can't stop now. Onward!</p><p>PS: So sorry about the "Let it go line", but after writing about kinky sorceror princesses, I couldn't get Elsa out of my mind :) On the bright side, I managed to resist "They'd fucked with the wrong amazon. Same-day delivery of ass-kicking coming up."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Oasis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>Gideon dreamed of scything through ranks of men, a merciless threshing tornado of sharpened steel. Some raised their weapons in a futile imitation of combat before they were sliced in two, some offered no resistance at all, just a mannequin frozen in place, resigned to their fate, helpless before her: Gideon Nav the Unkillable. Their faces were a uniform mask of dismay. And their cries-</p><p>Isha screamed again. Gideon awoke startled. Another attack? Was there anyone else in the room? Where was her sword? No - the room silent and empty, Isha still sleeping. Her heart pounded from the adrenaline rush. The girl was just having a bad dream. Should she wake her?</p><p>Isha’s eyes opened and she gasped for air, her breathing deep before returning to normal as she calmed, shaking off the threads of the dream still clinging to the waking world. </p><p>“You ok?” Gideon asked, putting a comforting arm around her.</p><p>“No. Nothing’s ok.” Isha replied. “Except you, my gallant defender.” A weak smile and then a desperate look in her green eyes. “But I can fix it all. Only I can fix it, you know.”</p><p>“Fix what?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you. Really I will. After I do it tomorrow.” That damaged half-smile again. “I can do it. Nobody else, only me.”</p><p>Gideon sighed as she decided against inquiring further. It could wait. “Whatever you say, my Majesty of Mystery, o’ Princess of Puzzles. Every day is an education.” She stroked Isha’s hair. “Are we ever going to slow it down a little? A girl’s night out?”</p><p>“Someday. An escape, just the two of us. I’d love nothing more.” Gideon felt the warmth of tears on her arm. “But I have to put it all right first. I can’t stop until then.”</p><p>“Hush. Sleep. You have a big day ahead.”</p><p>As Gideon slipped off to sleep with a broken Princess in her arms, she considered the ‘morrow. Sounded like a busy one; breakfast, go in, get relic, lunch, take it back to Isha’s place, dinner, drinks and one purring Princess. </p><p>Hope they make it in time for dinner at the palace, should be spectacular...   </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“TURN IT! FUCKING TURN IT!” Gideon screamed at Mantoz as she dragged herself back onto the tilting deck, clinging to a balustrade after ascending the last yard of the rope. She could see his face contorted with effort, fighting the wheel of the Endless Ocean, knuckles white, every sinew strained to breaking point. He was screaming something as well, but she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the vortex that filled the world.</p><p>He was only a few yards away, but the angle of the deck made it impossible for Gideon to reach him. The ship lurched and its speed increased as its orbit slipped lower, inexorably closer to the yawning dark void at the center of the vortex, a vast whirlpool of sand that swirled around the Relic, hidden in the depths below, like water around a plug hole. If they couldn’t steer up and away from the center, their circular path would continue to slip inwards and over the edge in seconds. </p><p>Mantoz wasn’t going to move the wheel. Maybe she couldn’t also. Forget the wheel and angling them out of the pit then. Focus on Isha, the real problem. </p><p>Isha knelt near the prow of the boat, gripping the balustrade. Her eyes glowed with an uncanny green light and vivid black veins criss-crossed pallid, shining skin forming a network of power and sorcery that corrupted the girl within. Her mouth stretched wide open, inky black fumes drifting forth. An unrecognizable parody of the Isha she knew. Too much of that Etrashit, too much power flowing through her. She was subsumed by the terrergy, lost to the planet with no indication she was aware of the danger they were in.         </p><p>Gideon looked to the rear of the craft and the fire blazing there. Yup. Fine. Looking good. Back to Isha. The Endless Ocean had started to lose its battle with the flow of sand into the heart of the vortex when she’d been unable to raise the Relic, and, wide eyed, drenched in sweat, had taken more of the Etracrap. Shortly after, they’d started to slip inwards and things had really started to go to shit. Isha was using terrergy captured from the interior of Etra by machines in the Endless Ocean. Maybe she’d drawn so much of it that the craft had nothing left for propulsion?</p><p>Get to Isha. There was nothing she could do from here. The problem was reaching her - the deck was tilted so severely, the ship’s motion so juddering and unstable, that Gideon would slip and fall over the side before she made two steps. She clung to the balustrade and searched for a solution as the craft circled the lip of the dark space with increasing velocity and the crushing roar filled her head.</p><p>The rigging. Tied to a cleat on the deck next to her was one of the ropes that stabilized the canopies shielding the Endless Ocean from the sun. It ran from the cleat to the tip of a short mast between Isha and herself, but nearer to the Princess. She could cross the deck while hanging on to the rope, and it should prevent her from falling from the craft. And when she got to Isha… she’d improvise. She was good at that (don’t think of spiked railings). </p><p>She unlooped the rope from the cleat, grabbed hold and ran, just as the craft tilted further from the vertical. Her feet left the deck as she clung to the rigging, her momentum and the position of the mast swinging her directly towards the Princess. Isha’s back was arched, staring skyward with unseeing emerald eyes, the blackness of the corrupted terrergy filling her veins, leaking from her eyes, nose, mouth.        </p><p> Improvisation. Gideon met Isha boot-first, to the head, hard. The Princess sprawled unconscious across the deck, as Gideon released the rope to leap and grab Isha by the ankle with her right hand, while looping her left arm through a balustrade to keep them both on the craft. </p><p>The Endless Ocean was running on the lip of the vortex, fighting to stay up, against the flow of sand into the dark abyss. </p><p>Gideon grasped the Princess by her ankle, dangling the girl over the void. And she saw it; the Relic she had gambled everything to attain. Only the top was visible, still some distance below the sands, the rest disappearing into an endless darkness. The face of a woman of stone, a colossus with an expression of ecstasy, as if in rapture at seeing the sun for the first time in an aeon, finally freed from a sandy prison. Gideon had the sense that she had witnessed something that was not meant for human eyes.</p><p>Had knocking Isha out achieved anything? It had all been gut feeling and hopeful guesswork. Suddenly the craft turned, angling up and away from the lip. Gideon turned back to look at Mantoz. Still straining at the wheel, bathed in sweat, but with a grimace of triumph on his face. The Endless Ocean started to climb away from the darkness behind it, gaining a little more speed with every second and Gideon pulled Isha back onto the deck. The girl looked human again, the dark veins fading, eyes closed, breathing shallow, a deathly, shining pallor to her skin. No permanent damage? Gideon prayed, holding her tight as the deck started to level itself, the craft leaving the funnel of the vortex. </p><p>Isha’s eyes flickered open. Patches of white had returned to her sclera, replacing the vivid green of just a few moments ago.</p><p>“She lives.” Gideon said.</p><p>“We’re alive?” The Princess breathed, weakly.</p><p>“We are. I was epic. You owe me big time.”</p><p>“I failed.” She looked away.</p><p>“It was impossible.” Gideon said. “If Etra’s greatest terramancer couldn’t do it, who could?”</p><p>“Nobody. Only me.” Isha said sadly then raised a hand to a lump on the side of her head. “My head hurts.”</p><p>“Umm. Mantoz’s driving was just the worst. I’ll have a word.”  </p><p>The Princess’ eyes widened as she looked past Gideon at the two women beating the flames at the far end of the craft. “Why is the ship on fire?”</p><p>“We were hit by a flock of burning sheep.” Isha frowned at her and Gideon shrugged. “It’s probably best we don’t know.”</p><p>She considered the situation in some more detail and her mouth started to water. “But on the bright side, lamb chops for dinner. Medium to well done, by the look of it.”  </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The rest was relatively easy. Gideon carried Isha back to her bed, helped extinguish the fire (no structural damage), and did her best to set right as many of the toppled and scattered items in the workshop and Isha’s room as possible. She tried to help tidy the breakages in the galley but was shooed away. All the while Mantoz was glued to the wheel, as if leaving it would result in an immediate reversal of their escape. It looked to Gideon that he either knew exactly where he was going, or was so traumatized by the events of the day that he was simply heading as far away from the Relic as possible, in a blind panic. She left him to it.</p><p>The oasis was a green smudge on the horizon at first, slowly expanding to reveal a cluster of vegetation, fringed by grass and low bushes with bunches of palm trees grouped to one side. The source of this island of life in the ocean of sand came into view last, a circular pool of water, slightly sunken below the level of the sands. It wasn’t large - Gideon could have strolled from one side to the other in a minute if walking on water was one of her many talents - but it was enough to support the greenery surrounding it.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon lay on the rug - woven silk, gloriously soft and, she figured, probably hideously expensive - in the shade of a clump of trees, appreciating the silence and the breeze, and being above the sands rather than in some nameless place deep below them. Mantoz had stripped off his shirt and tunic and was having a swim. The two women were paddling and chatting. She would never have guessed that they had been fighting for their lives, and only coming out on top by a whisker, just a few hours ago. Perhaps this was a regular occurrence when living in Isha’s orbit. </p><p>Isha lay next to her, on a matching rug. Still very weak; it had been a struggle to get her down from the Endless Ocean to this spot, but she’d insisted, this place being a particular favorite of hers. Mantoz knew her well. </p><p>The Princess turned to Gideon. “I said I’d tell you what this was all about.”</p><p>“Gods. I don’t mind waiting. It’s been a busy day.”</p><p>“I need to explain. I’ve not been fair to you. At all.”</p><p>Uh oh. “Go for it then. For a start, why are you out here?”</p><p>“That’s a question I ask all the time. The short answer is, to find the Relic. If we had that, IXa would be the greatest House on the continent. Again.”</p><p>“I hate to break it to you, but that Relic isn’t coming up. It's huge.” </p><p>“You saw it?” Isha’s eyes widened.</p><p>“Yeah. It was a statue of a woman. But the thing is enormous. It's head is wider than the Endless Ocean is long.”</p><p>Isha slumped onto her back and considered this. “Then it’s done. Finished. All for nothing.” </p><p>She continued. “I needed the Relic to redeem myself. To try and make amends for everything I’d done. Now I don’t know how. I can’t go back now. Not ever.”</p><p>Gideon took a breath. “What did you do?”</p><p>“I was the best terramancer we’d ever produced. I had everything. Really. I know I’m a bit arrogant, but that much is true. I had - have - a younger sister, so I was in line for the throne. My father was a brilliant leader, my mother an amazing politician and terramancer. Together they were unstoppable. We dominated the other houses. And they loved me and my sister so much. It was perfect.”</p><p>“It feels like a dream now.” She said, sadly.</p><p>“My 18th birthday was to be a huge party. You’d have loved it.” She smiled. “And I wanted to do something special, to show everyone how far I’d come, to make my mark. There was a courtyard in the heart of the palace, and we were to start the celebration there, just the family and closest friends. Lovely place. In the center was a small tree. My plan was to create a stone tree in that same spot, made from the rocks beneath.” She sighed as she remembered. “It was to be large enough to show my power, beautiful enough to show my finesse. I’d planned and experimented for months. It was going to be stunning, astonishing. It would stand for millennia, my monument.”</p><p>“So the time came, we were all there, they asked me to say a few words, and I did it. Grew it before their eyes. It was breathtaking, for a moment. I’ll always remember their faces. They haunt me.” She paused a moment. “But I’d been so focused on the creation I’d neglected other factors. So, so stupid. I thought I was taking the rock from far enough down to not affect the palace, but I was wrong. A tower collapsed. Part of the courtyard collapsed. People died.” She hesitated. “My parents died.”   </p><p>She turned to Gideon. “I’m a fool, you see. All the talent in the world. No idea how to use it.”</p><p>“Did you ever fuck up so badly it just fills your world? Every corner. There’s no escape from it, no matter what you do or where you go. You see it in every face you meet, every voice you hear. Everyone knows. It was so enormous, I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>“But our enemies knew exactly what to do. We’ve been losing land and power ever since.”</p><p>“So I decided to find the Relic. The ancient terramancers knew things we’ve forgotten, used terrergy in ways beyond us now, and the Relics are keys to buried knowledge. The other Houses would have no answer to that. We would be back on top. It wouldn’t redeem me, I know, and I can’t expect everyone to forget, but they might at least respect me, even if they don’t love me. ”</p><p>“And off I went, leaving my sister on the throne. That was two years ago.” </p><p>“You ran.” Gideon said.   </p><p>“I ran. But I couldn’t run fast or far enough. The memories are always there.”</p><p>“There’s nothing for you out here.” Gideon said. “You need to go home. Help your sister. She’ll need it.”</p><p>Isha took a breath, before continuing hesitantly. “Gideon. Your memory loss. I’m responsible for at least part of it.”</p><p>Gideon experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. What was she about to learn? “How so?”</p><p>“I’ve been giving you potions that remove memories. One for short term, another for longer.”</p><p>“Fuck. Will I get them back?”</p><p>“Eventually, yes. I’m sorry, I really am. I just wanted you to stay. I needed you. Need you.”</p><p>“Shit.” Gideon lay back. “Oh Isha. Why?” What had she forgotten? Who had she forgotten? A sense of panic, rising again, when she’d successfully pushed it to the back of her mind over the past couple of days.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m not bad, just lonely. It's been so long since I had a friend like you. It has been pretty great, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“My stomach says yes. Other bits of me say yes as well.” Gideon looked out at the oasis. “Isha, maybe this is where I’m supposed to be. But I have to know for sure.” </p><p>“I can’t bring your memory back faster. I’m sorry.” She repeated the apology helplessly.</p><p>Something about the Oasis called Gideon. A memory that was still hidden but too strong to be entirely denied. </p><p>“I have an idea.” She stood and walked to the waters then waded in, the pool cool and comforting, and once it was deep enough, submerged herself.</p><p>The world was gone. Isolated from its sights and sounds by the water, she was taken to a different place.  </p><p>A different time. </p><p>
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</p><p>Underwater. A girl in her arms.</p><p>
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</p><p>The girl with short dark hair.</p><p>
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</p><p>The girl’s cry for help disguised as a confession.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her pain and self-loathing disguised as hate.</p><p>
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</p><p>Two destinies entwined. </p><p>
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</p><p>Two hearts starved in a cold, hard prison from which only she could break them free.</p><p>
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</p><p>Two damaged lives that only she could save.</p><p>
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</p><p>With one simple act.</p><p>
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</p><p>She remembered. </p><p>
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</p><p>Everything.</p><p> </p><p>The rush of memories, images and understanding was dizzying. Gideon rose from the waters and walked to The heir of the House of Ixa and pressed her mouth to the place where Isha’s nose met the bone of her frontal sinus. </p><p>“I forgive you. Now forgive yourself. It’s the only way you can find peace. Go back and start your life again.”</p><p>“Come with me.”</p><p>“I can’t. Harrow is my everything, my forever, my always. Even death couldn’t part us.” Gideon looked to the horizon. “How far are we from the Port of Attar?”</p><p>“Two or three days, I think. But we lost all the supplies this morning and Mantoz says the drive is damaged. We have to go to a town south of here, and Attar is north.” Isha looked at Gideon pleadingly. “Come with us. Just a few days longer.”</p><p>“Harrow and I have been apart too long. She needs me, I can feel it. I must get to Attar.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon and Isha stood before the Endless Ocean as the sun grew lower in the sky. </p><p>The Princess looked downcast. “I’ve something for you. If you’re off into adventures unknown, into those dreadful, nightmarish Northern lands, this may come in useful.”</p><p>She produced a vial of powder; white mixed with gold, sparkling with an iridescent vitality.  </p><p>“This is Phoenix Dust. Give it to someone on the verge of death, or even that has passed over, and it will bring them back.” She paused for dramatic effect and whispered. “It is the essence of life itself.” </p><p>Gideon reached for the vial but then hesitated and stopped half way.</p><p>“Something tells me I have some totally epic, insanely dangerous adventures coming up, and a get-out-of-death-free card does sound extremely convenient.” She withdrew her hand back to her side. “But also a bit of a cop-out. When the chips are down, I’ll have to come up with a more creative solution. Sorry.”</p><p>Isha rolled her eyes and tutted. “Please yourself.”  </p><p>“But I’ll have some of that red, fighty-fighty, powder.”</p><p>“Fine.” Isha huffed and handed over a small vial of StrongBlood.</p><p>“And, umm, some of that pink stuff?”</p><p>“Oh god. You’re breaking my heart.” Isha fished out another vial of the pink potion. “This Harrow girl better deserve you. Does she even know what she’s got?”</p><p>“Well, she doesn't let it show often, but I like to think so.”</p><p>“If you ever pass near IXa, you’d better call in. Don’t be a stranger.”</p><p>“I’d love to. Really. It might depend on Harrow though.”</p><p>“I’d make her feel ever so welcome.” Isha smirked, an eyebrow arched above glinting emerald eyes. “The more the merrier.” </p><p>“Gods.” Gideon sighed. “I’ll miss you, Princess Purity. But my heart and destiny lie with a grumpy little bone witch. I can only hope she’s not gone too far off the rails in my absence.”</p><p>“Take care, Gideon the gorgeous.” Isha of the House of IXa waved farewell as Gideon straightened her wide-brimmed hat, consulted her compass and set off at a measured pace into the late afternoon sun. </p><p>  </p><p> </p><p>-------------------------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harrow reached out with the toe of her boot to touch the lip of the ledge. Why did she keep finding herself here, on the roof of the tower, at the edge, so close she could touch the drop beyond? So near. You know why. Don’t give in Harrow. </p><p>It was the view, of course. She could see a long way here, back towards the harbor. If anyone was to come along, by chance, she’d be able to spot them easily, and call out, let them know where she was, rush down endless stairs, run to them, maybe they’d find each other in the lobby, maybe in the square outside, and they’d hold each other so tight and kiss forever and she’d tell Harrow she was sorry for taking so long but that desert was a bitch, and she’d had to slay a million monsters just to -</p><p>Stop. Kill it. Forget it. It’s not happening. It’ll never happen.</p><p>When had she got so close to the end of the ledge? She’d been pacing up and down the thing too quickly, it would be easy to fall. So easy to escape. She stood and looked at her feet and the drop, watching tears make dark spots on the concrete.</p><p>It had only been 7 days by her count, but she knew the truth. She’d been forgotten. Gideon was back in Domelle getting on with her life, trying to put that moody Lyctor girl behind her and move on. She knew she could be hard on the big buff idiot, she knew wasn’t the best at opening up and showing her feelings but did Gideon know how much she really cared? She should have treated her better, showed her how much she meant to her, made more of their time together instead of stressing over the war and taking it out on her. What an idiot she was, taking so much for granted. Anyway, Gideon had already died for her once, so how could she expect her to do it all over again? </p><p>Or maybe Gideon had died trying to find her. Lord knows there were enough ways it could happen here. Same result either way; she was done, she was going to die here, alone.      </p><p>The city called to her. She could hear its voice always, a whisper of anguish and pain, but it seemed even stronger up here, where she could see so much more of it. Let it in, Harrow; what do you have to lose any more?</p><p>She opened herself to the power at last. An immense rush of thanergy flowed through her, generated by the death of millions of souls, extinguished as one in a few moments of terror and anger. The world disappeared, senses overloaded, her mind crumpling under the intensity of the experience.</p><p>She felt as if she were underwater, cut off from time and space and her senses. A feeling of suffocation. Was she actually suffocating? It was difficult to tell, so disconnected was she from her body, unable to breath or move, as if held in a crushing grip. Fool. It was too much. She was dying.</p><p>Her mind floated free, to a memory of a different place.</p><p>
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</p><p>A different time.</p><p>
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</p><p>The night that changed everything.</p><p>
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</p><p>Underwater, held by strong arms.</p><p>
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</p><p>Spent, with nothing left to give.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her surrender, the submission of her fate to another.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her rebirth. Hope renewed. </p><p>
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</p><p>Her life saved. A suffocating weight lifted. </p><p>
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</p><p>She ceased her resistance to the energy, stopped her struggle, surrendered and became one with it.</p><p>And was released.</p><p>Concrete, rough and cold against her cheek. She’d fallen. Disoriented enough to wonder whether she was still on the ledge or had fallen all the way from the top of the tower to the street below. She opened her eyes. Still on the ledge, of course, still on that narrow space, caught between life and death.</p><p>The sizzling intensity of the thanergy was still there, still altering her perceptions, her thoughts and feelings. But it was under control now. She had adjusted and tamed it. Of course; wasn’t she the most talented necromancer of her generation? Of any generation, come to that. Of course she could fucking handle it. It was exceedingly doubtful any other sorcerer could even have survived the experience, let alone profited. It would have been entirely beyond them, their abilities feeble in comparison to hers, in no way equal to the task, whereas she had mastered it in seconds. This was her destiny. Only hers, nobody else. </p><p>She rose to observe the city, her city. Could she really have been considering ending herself only moments ago? Harrow laughed. Ridiculous, when she now possessed so much potential, so many possibilities. But what would be a fitting use for such power? Did it have a destiny all its own?</p><p>She felt rather than heard the plea of the city: “Release us”. She looked at the buildings surrounding her, the cityscape extending to the horizon, and raised her arms, calling them from every corner of every room in every tower, wherever they may have come to rest. And she sensed them answer, rising from age-long slumber, animated for the first time in millennia, coming to her. </p><p>Skeletal figures poured from the empty windows of the skyscrapers before her, dropping soundlessly like leaves to clatter to the ground, where they picked themselves up and continued to advance to her. They flooded from doors, from tunnels, from the remnants of the broken, dead city, given life again by the girl with the night in her eyes and the power of the dark in her bones.  </p><p>Thousands stood silently, covering the desolate park, surrounding the bowed tree, shoulder to shoulder. And thousands more came, an endless tsunami of the remnants of those that had once lived, a torrent of bodies white and clean and purified by death, ready to do her bidding.</p><p>Blood flowed from eyes darkened by a corrupting power within as Harrowhark Nonagesimus surveyed the scene and smiled a grin of blood-stained teeth.</p><p>Her dominion. Her army.</p><p>
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</p><p>-------------------------</p><p>
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</p><p>Had she seen that vaguely dog-shaped rock before? Were those distant peaks actually getting any closer? Had she made a mistake following Mantoz’ directions? But she’d been careful, staying on route being literally a matter of life and death. Her spit stuck thickly to the back of her throat and a dull ache had started behind her eyes. When Mantoz had given her the compass and hat, he’d assured her that the walk was less than three days, but now she wondered if he had been a little too eager to be rid of her. This was the third full day out in the desert and the landscape was uninterrupted, unchanged. Gideon had a sinking feeling that she had been too impulsive in setting out by herself, a potentially fatal mistake. She was rationing the water harder now, less certain of the three day duration. Wouldn’t Isha have stopped her from walking off to her death? Gideon was sure she would, but only Mantoz had an accurate knowledge of the oasis’ location.  </p><p>
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</p><p>-----</p><p>
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</p><p>The sandy horizon shimmered. The sand at her feet was too bright, it hurt to look at it. No sound but boots shuffling through the soft ground and her breathing the hot, dry air. She watched her feet. One after the other. Don’t stop. He just got the distance wrong, but follow his directions and you’ll get there. Don’t stop. Ok, just a minute, for water, but just a little. You’ll get there, of course you will, you always do. But wouldn’t it be ridiculous if this was the end here, in this fucking desert, if after all this, you died here alone, and nobody ever knew, and Harrow just thought you’d forgotten her, that you’d found somebody else and forgotten all about her. No, fuck that, don’t stop. God my head hurts.</p><p>After another hour or so, the sun mercifully lower in the sky, Gideon became aware of someone walking with her. They paced alongside her, a few yards away in the periphery of her vision. She didn’t bother moving her head to look; she knew who it was by the way they moved, their body language. Aiglamene. Of course. Soon, she started to speak.</p><p>“You don’t deserve her, Nav.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“She’s special. She’s Harrowhark the First. There’s nobody else like her.”</p><p>“So what.”</p><p>“What are you? You’re nothing.”</p><p>Gideon stumbled onward, head down, without reply.</p><p>“You’re just some discarded freak. She’s one in billions. She deserves someone exceptional, not a nobody like you.”</p><p>Keep going. One foot in front of the other.</p><p>“Some day she’ll find someone special like her, and when she does, she’ll forget you.”</p><p>Tears are water. Save them.</p><p>“Fuck off. Fuck. Off.” A croaking, dry shout, still not turning to look at the old soldier. Save your strength. But it worked; she’d gone. Gideon hoped she’d not return. She needed to stay focused. She was in serious shit now. </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>She shivered in the cold desert night. That was bad; it was going to sap her strength for the day ahead and another trudge through slippery sands. But she didn’t remember it being that cold the previous nights, so maybe that was a good sign; the climate changing as she traveled north and neared the coast. Maybe. Hopefully. </p><p>After a while, she became aware of someone nearby in the darkness. A hulking, hoary presence that she could smell as well as sense loomed over her. She didn’t have the strength to turn to look at Crux, Marshall of the House of the Ninth, but she knew he was going to speak. He loved to lecture.</p><p>“You’re a fool, Nav.”</p><p>“I’m not.” Gideon replied weakly.</p><p>“Why are you here, dying?”</p><p>“She needs me.”</p><p>A dry croaking chuckle. “Such loyalty. Pity you never paid the Ninth the same respect. She wouldn’t do the same for you, you know.”</p><p>“She would.”</p><p>“She made your life hell for years. She ground you into the dirt, Nav. Why don’t you hate her?”</p><p>She could feel his disgust and his baleful one eye on her.</p><p>“You’re like a kicked puppy following her around, hoping for some attention. Pathetic. You’re a mug. A fool.”</p><p>“I’m not.” She whispered into the night, “I’m not”. Crux let her be after that, and eventually exhaustion pulled her into a shivering, restless sleep. </p><p> </p><p>----- </p><p> </p><p>The Three Peaks. Thank the gods. Three sandstone spires rose from the desert, at the left end of a rocky outcrop. She was sure she wasn’t imagining them, and that was remembering Mantoz directions correctly: “Round the left of the three sharp peaks, then directly north ten leagons to the graveyards, and let the graves lead you to Attar.” His route was sound, but damn it, his distances were way out, and she’d had to stretch the water too thin. Get north, out of this desert, and maybe she could find some more.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>As Gideon stumbled head down through ten leagons of hell, she was aware that the landscape was changing, the desert giving way to savanna, a tree-less expanse of dry looking grass and occasional crags. The air cooled as the afternoon wore on. That was welcome, but too late, every breath rasping against her bone dry throat, her head pounding. She’d fucked up, she was going to die here. No, keep going, don’t stop. </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Afternoon gave way to evening and darkness. She fell to her knees. Just resting, just for a minute, and noticed the ground; soil and grass, not sand. She looked up and saw it; the graveyard, stretching before her, the landscape now a sea of crosses and headstones extending to the horizon. </p><p>A sound nearby. A familiar soft, slow pattering on the ground, becoming more rapid. She turned her face to the sky to feel the rain, opened her mouth to drink it in. The pattering grew to become a soft roar of a downfall and Gideon wandered forward. </p><p>Soaked to the skin, she found the angel, carved from stone an age ago, the marker of a grave of someone presumably of importance or wealth. It had been worn featureless by the years, but still held a bowl in its outstretched hands, fashioned from a huge scallop shell, and from this Gideon drank. When she had drunk enough, she sat, allowing the water to fuel her recovery.</p><p>Slumped against the angel, she became aware of a shadow to her side, a shape in the shafts of rain. She didn’t bother to look directly at it. Aiglamene had come to taunt her again.</p><p>“You don’t deserve her.” The old soldier whispered.</p><p>“I do. That ‘one in billions’ stuff is bullshit.” Gideon answered. “That’s not how it works. I don’t need a number to tell me I’m special. I’m enough and I always will be. I’m the one for her. So fuck off.”</p><p>The Captain of the House Guard of the Ninth fucked off, retreating behind sheets of raindrops.</p><p>Gideon drank again from the scallop shell bowl and rested, watching the torrent form rivers in the blasted grey ground. She felt rather than saw the presence behind her of the Marshall of the Ninth House, sensed his disdain. </p><p>“You should hate her.”</p><p>“I thought I did.” Gideon whispered. “But I only hated what I thought she was. When I saw her as she really is, I loved her instead.” She smiled. “I don’t care if you don’t get it.” </p><p>“You’re a fool.”</p><p>“Having someone in my life I’d die for makes me stronger, not weaker.” Gideon rose to her feet. “You wouldn’t understand. Get out.”</p><p>She sensed Crux withdraw, dissolving into the downpour behind her, knowing he was beaten and never intending to return.  </p><p>She consulted the compass before preparing to move on, but stepping forward, caught a glimpse of a glow in the periphery of her vision. Someone else? Her hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the sword on her back, but there was something familiar in the way the light shifted and shimmered. A distant memory of a monster of bone. Drawn forwards by her curiosity, the glow grew until it resolved into hundreds of separate lights carpeting an area of ground a hundred meters square or more. Each shimmering glow hovered and writhed like smoke above a pit, each pit, she realized, a grave, exploded from within. And the brightest of the lights located in the center, on a path, not a grave. </p><p>Studying the uncanny shifting of colors, Gideon remembered where she had seen them before: in Canaan House. These were thanergetic signatures, traces of necromancy remaining fixed to the stuff that composed our cosmos. But not just any signature; it belonged to Harrow. Gideon was only mildly surprised at her ability to detect it; she’d seen signatures before and her and Harrow’s souls had been combined as one for years, so it seemed natural that there would be some fusing of their abilities, some attributes not completely separated. The necromancer had been here and had done something to the graves. What exactly, Gideon could not tell, but it was another disquieting find. Another bad omen that drove her onward with more urgency.</p><p>She felt a warmth on her neck and her hand went to the hilt of the sword. Gideon drew it to discover that it too was wreathed in the same iridescent corona. She knew Harrow had wielded the sword in battle all too often during her years in the War Without End, and supposed her signature had become deeply ingrained into its fabric. The sword responded to the thanergy around it, growing brighter and warmer.</p><p>The deep tracks worn by hundreds of skeletal feet stretched out before her, a scarred path beckoning her onward. At the end of it was the Port of Attar, a flagon of what she was sure was going to be The Best Ale In The World and a plate of The Best Dinner Ever. </p><p>Reinvigorated, Gideon strode forward, holding the two-hander aloft to light the way.</p><p>She was Gideon Nav the Unkillable, and she was going to find her girl.   </p><p>
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</p><p>----------------</p><p>
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</p><p>Harrowhark Nonagesimus wandered in an ocean of bone, walking among the millions that were still and silent save for the soft clattering that surrounded her as the figures shuffled to create space for their Empress. In the susurrus she heard whispered her subjects adoration, their loyalty.</p><p>She saw it clearly now. The Emperor had ordained his successor. He intended her to succeed and surpass him by presenting her with these tests to attain a power like no other, one that only she could control. </p><p>Her life had entered a third phase. Abandoned by the love that had anchored her, she would leave behind human frailty to take her place at His side as the Empress that would finish the War Without End and usher in a new age of greatness.</p><p>And she would start by remaking this world with her army of bone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You made it to the end! Gold star!</p><p>Finally got 'susurrus' in there. Phew. My work is done.</p><p>But not quite. Now to wrap it all up. Can't stop, won't stop!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. All The Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The mood in “The World’s Edge” tavern was turning ugly.</p><p>“Forget it.” Spat the sailor. “Nobody’s taking you anywhere near that accursed place. It’s only a week since Horon and most of his crew were lost there, killed by that devil girl.”</p><p>“And if you’ve got anything to do with her,” Growled another weather beaten fisherman. “We should just kill you now, and let the jackals feast on your bones.” </p><p>A murmur of approval from the patrons of the tavern, all eyes on the golden eyed girl sat before them.</p><p>Gideon didn’t bother taking her boots off the table, just sipped some more of The Best Ale in the World and belched loudly, courtesy of The Best Dinner Ever. </p><p>“Boys, boys.” She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t even go there. <span class="u">I’m</span> the only one that’s managed to kill me. And even then, it didn’t stick.”</p><p>“The resulting shortage in hotness and awesomeness was so epic it threatened the fabric of space and time. It couldn’t be made up by ugly bastards like yourselves, so here I am again.”</p><p>Enough of the playful banter, time to turn on the charm. Gideon tried hard to recall some of her ‘Persuasiveness and Alternatives to Violence’ classes in the Imperial Bodyguard Academy, which wasn’t easy, since she’d slept through half of them and skipped off the rest to take extra ‘Applications of Deadly Force’. Feet off table would be a good start. Look them in the eye. Soft, low voice. </p><p>“I understand you’re upset with the devil girl. I feel your pain.” She clutched her fist to her chest, to nurse her aching heart. “Bitch offed a bunch of your friends. That sucks. A lot.” She took another swig. “So I need to find her before she creates a load more stiffs.” Gideon leaned forward to increase eye contact and maximize empathy. “Let’s work together to make sure this senseless tragedy is never repeated. It’s what Huron would have wanted.”</p><p>She leaned back. Nice job. If that didn’t win them over, nothing would.</p><p>“Piss off.” Growled the sailor. “And if she’s gone over there, to the city of ghosts, she’s probably dead already. They say monsters roam the streets.”</p><p>“You don’t know my girl. They’re probably licking her boots clean right about now.”</p><p>“Finish your ale and your meal and leave.” The tavern owner said. “You’re not welcome here.”</p><p>No more ale? But it was going down really well. Gideon thought hard; what did she have that guys like him want? Apart from the obvious. She drew a blank. The obvious then.</p><p>“You know, devil girl actually cleans up pretty well. Rather attractive, in a demonic kind of way. If I calm her down, and bring her back, well, we could put on a bit of a show for you.” She lowered her voice and looked up at him with seductive amber eyes. “We could show you pleasures known only to unholy creatures like ourselves, hidden from the eyes of men since ancient times.”</p><p>His eyes widened.</p><p>“If you let me have another couple of flagons.”</p><p>The tavern owner hesitated, mouth slightly open. Once again Gideon marveled at what uncomplicated creatures men were. </p><p>He glanced sideways at a scowling, middle-aged woman, who growled softly, then turned his attention back to Gideon and shrugged an apology.</p><p>Gideon sighed. Foiled by an uncomplicated woman.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The night was chilly outside the warm glow of “The World’s Edge” and Gideon pulled her desert garb tightly around her as she surveyed the small town below. First order of business was to find somewhere to sleep, then try to find a boat in the morning. </p><p>As she started to descend the path, a call from behind brought her up short. “Young lady, wait.” An aging sailor with a neatly trimmed white beard shuffled out of the tavern. “I was listening to your story with great interest.”</p><p>“Oh gods. Look, we’re not really putting on a show for anybody. I just fancied another jug of ale.”</p><p>“No, no. The idea of a fine upstanding young lady like yourself prostituting herself in such a way is obviously ridiculous.”</p><p>Gideon checked herself to make sure she’d not slipped into a ballgown and had a bath while she wasn’t looking: damp, dirty, desert clothing, battered pack, huge sword and obviously hadn’t washed in days. Ok.</p><p>“You are an exceptional judge of character. Please continue.”</p><p>“So this girl you lost. The one that has crossed over to the city of the dead. She is the love of your life?”</p><p>“She is.”</p><p>“How far would you go to get her back?”</p><p>From where they stood Gideon had a view out to the sea. She watched its waves, dark and foreboding in the night, and on the horizon, just visible in the moonlight, the towers of the city of ghosts at the end of the world, a place where only fools and madmen ventured and none returned. All that waited there for her in that desolation was a lingering death, alone in cold shadows, at the end of the one-way journey to her grave. </p><p>She turned back to the old man and fixed him with a golden eyed stare. </p><p>“All the way. There’s no limit.”</p><p>The old man nodded. “Good.” He said. “I had a girl like that once. She went away to a city. I thought she’d soon be back and didn’t follow her. By the time I went to find her, she’d gone, moved on.” He looked out to the ocean. “I never loved anyone again like I loved her.” </p><p>He nodded to the city. “Let’s find your girl.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Gideon said.</p><p>“There’s a break in the weather. You’ll never have a better chance, so let’s go now.“</p><p>The old sailor led the way to the docks and Gideon followed, unable to tear her eyes from the black towers on the horizon. Was Harrow there in bitter exile, believing she had been forsaken by Gideon, Emperor and everything she’d ever known? Or was she waiting and watching for her even now?</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>Harrowhark stood in the midst of the millions as their voices whispered a chorus in her head. Lead us and we will worship you. Conquer this world and we will revere you. Remake it as you see fit, in your wisdom. Rebuild it in your image, our Queen. </p><p>What was once a soft call tickling the back of her mind was now a chant that could not be ignored as insistent voices flowed through her, carried on the thanergy she channeled to animate the skeletal army, like words on the wind. </p><p>The chorus was loud enough that her own thoughts were being lost in the noise, carried away on the flow, taken out of reach. But the conquest was her idea. Wasn’t it? That was why she was here; that was her destiny, to lead and destroy. To prove herself to the Emperor and rule with him. Had there been something else? An old woman and a tree?</p><p>An image came to her mind, strong enough to push away the calls. A memory of a girl with red hair, her body against hers, their kiss, an ocean outside in the darkness, her heart filled with fear and a sadness-</p><p>Stop, called the crowd of voices. Your conquest awaits. Take us to the living, so we may bring them the death they deserve. </p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>A kiss in the dark, a gentle whisper, the touch of a hand and the crash of waves outside-</p><p>The little boat jolted and Gideon woke with a start. </p><p>“Almost there.” Called the old sailor as he tacked into the wind. “Get ready.”</p><p>“Ready for what?” Gideon replied, surveying the sea ahead with dismay. It was worse than she had imagined; the entire coast was surrounded by jagged rocks projecting up through the waves. There was no way through, and if they approached them too closely, they would be dashed to pieces against the rows of broken teeth of the angry city. It looked hopeless, but she’d come too far to turn back now.  </p><p>“Horon’s galley.” The old man said, and pointed ahead.  </p><p>Gideon followed his gaze and noticed the wrecked ship some way off, half on, half off the rocks. As they approached, she could see that parts of it had collapsed under the onslaught of the waves, but the structure remained in one piece. </p><p>“They had to get onto it to rescue the survivors.” The old man declared. “So we should be able to do the same. I’ll get you as close as I dare. The rest is up to you. You’ll have to reach that bridge.”</p><p>Gideon studied the wreck and saw a thin white crescent reaching away from the front of the ship, arching over the rocks the vessel was beached upon.</p><p>“Unholy thing. Made of bone.” He shouted over the crashing of the waves. “No one dared touch it. But it leads to the pier, and from there you can get to the city.”</p><p>They quickly closed the distance to the galley until its stern reared above them, rushing to meet them then retreating over and again as their small craft rose and fell with the waves, spraying the two occupants with the freezing, salty waters. Gideon studied the splintered wooden sides of the vessel but found no opening, no way in.</p><p>“Try the other side.” She called. </p><p>They worked together, using a combination of oars and poles to reach the opposite side of the wreck and there, fortune smiled; an anchor chain dangled, just low enough to be reached at the peak of their upwards motion on the waves. Positioned under the chain, Gideon gauged the distance; she would need to make a jump for it, and if she missed, she didn’t fancy her chances in this sea, with the weight of the two-hander strapped to her back. No second tries. </p><p>Gideon turned to the old man, “What about the return trip?”</p><p>“I’ll look for you here on the fourth morning from now.” He replied. “Be on your way, quick, and good luck.”</p><p>Gideon waited for a large swell and made the leap. Her fingers found the end of the chain, slippery with spray but with spaces in the links that made for excellent holds, allowing her to move up smoothly, hand over hand towards the upper deck.</p><p>She moved quickly across the top deck of the stranded galley, listening to the timbers groan as they flexed under the battering of the waves. The slender white arch, projecting from the prow of the boat, was unmistakably Harrow’s handiwork, an alien artifact born of another world. </p><p>Gideon tested the bone path with her weight, and finding it solid, walked on, boots clicking on the hard, smooth surface as the wind whipped at her hair, chilling her in clothes wet with sea spray. Harrow was here, she was real, the bridge was actual, physical proof of her presence. She was close now, and Gideon knew with a certainty that she would find her soon, and be with her at last. She’d done her best to not hope or even think such a thing since her quest started; to hope would be to leave herself open to a disappointment that could crush her heart, but now she was so close, her stomach fluttered at the thought of Harrow standing before her. What would Harrow say? Would she explain why she was here? What if she told her to leave, go back to Domelle and never return? Could she leave her again, a second time? She couldn’t; that would be too much to bear. </p><p>Gideon pulled her wet clothing tighter against the wind and strode forward into the night on the white path, towards the city that loomed dark and broken above her, the sword on her back glowing dimly, unseen.</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>The towering construct was a fitting way for an Empress and General to travel into battle, thought Harrowhark as she ascended steps crafted from the bones of thousands, the staircase spiraling around the outside of the tower. From the top, she would have a perfect view of the battlefield, and her enemies would no doubt be suitably intimidated by such a grand conveyance. </p><p>We shall bear you with us always, whispered the ghosts. Let us raise you to the heavens, our queen, our savior.</p><p>On reaching the platform at the top of the construction, Harrowhark turned around, to take in the scene. Her army, her subjects, surrounded her in the millions, filling the park, crowding the streets that lead from it as far as she could see. What a beautiful sight it was.</p><p>“Forward.” She called, and the horde moved as one. All she needed to do was channel the thanergy required for the task, issue commands, and the spirits animated each figure to carry out her bidding. </p><p>Let us worship you without limits, they whispered. You fulfil us.</p><p>To be worshiped was to be loved, thought Harrowhark with satisfaction. And to be loved was a thing of beauty. What more could she ask? </p><p>But a memory came unbidden to her mind. She had been loved before, and it was very different from the worship lavished on her now. The ghosts worshiped her for what her power could give them. Her entire life she had possessed abilities that meant others had followed, feared and even worshiped her. That power defined her. It was her identity, exacting a terrible burden until the day she had been freed, the day Gideon loved the girl, not the power, and through her gaze, Harrow had seen herself anew, redefined forever.</p><p>Stop. Roared the masses. That way lies weakness.</p><p>But she remembered. To be loved was better than being worshiped. Accepted, not as a power or a role, or a figurehead, but as she was, her soul-</p><p>Hear us, they insisted. Free yourself from that world. Leave behind that hateful world of the desires and needs of the living. </p><p>It was true, Harrow conceded. She was better off now, free from the petty expectations and messy emotions of the living, not to mention all the hate and anger that had been directed at her. She walked with those purified by death now; she was one with them.</p><p>Though she need not direct each individual figure, the effort of channeling such a quantity of power to them was quite an exertion. Harrow felt the trickle of blood down her cheeks and on impulse reached up to touch it, taste it and-</p><p>There was no blood on her fingers, only water. She was crying. Why was she crying?</p><p>Lead us, the army commanded in a roar of a million whispers. Bring us vengeance on a world that forgot us. Vengeance on the hateful living. Deny us not.</p><p> </p><p>---------- </p><p> </p><p>Gideon wandered through the remains of the city, searching for some sign of Harrow’s passing. The place was vast though, and as the size of the task became apparent, she felt overwhelmed. Her best chance may be to spot the glow of Harrow’s thanergetic signature in the night; after following that from the graveyard to Attar, she was confident she would be able to detect it from some distance. But where was she likely to be? Gideon had no idea of her reasons for coming to this place, and so the search was random and could easily outlast her food supply. </p><p>Rounding a corner, she saw it; a gleaming tower of metal and glass, shining in the moonlight, an artifact that seemed to have been dropped into the ragged, shattered city from another universe. </p><p>“Good place to start.” Gideon smiled. Random search over, she plotted a course across broken roads and streets towards the tower.   </p><p>  </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon strode across an expansive plaza illuminated by dim moonlight, trying to keep sight of the glass tower that was obscured intermittently by nearer buildings. The city was perfectly silent save for the wind rushing through its eroded valleys, brushing across the faces of decaying buildings. </p><p>She heard the horde before she saw it; a sound like the hush of rainfall in the distance, building in intensity. Remembering the stories of monsters, she retreated into a shattered structure adjacent to the open plaza, drew the sword from her back and watched from the shadows.  </p><p>The rain-like hushing grew into the sound of a waterfall, a crashing torrent created by the steps of a million feet of bone on concrete. </p><p>The army was a flood, a tsunami flowing through the city, around buildings, over streets, covering every inch of ground. The square was filled in less than a minute by skeletal figures marching towards the harbor Gideon had come from. Each skeleton was wreathed in the pale corona of Harrow’s signature, shimmering in the darkness, marking the thanergy that energized them. Gideon noted the two-hander glowing in response, and felt the power flowing through it, and through her. </p><p>The glowing signatures confirmed that this was Harrow’s work. The realization was welcome but did little to reduce Gideon’s uneasiness at the sight. Harrow had been inflicting a significant amount of death and dismemberment recently. Was Gideon imagining it or did the skeletons look... mean, pissed off? She had worked with countless animated dead back in the Ninth, and detected something in their body language. Instinct told her to hang back and not reveal herself to the horde yet. Plan: wait until Harrow appears, get her attention… improvise.  </p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>Harrow understood now; she was being consumed. It was as if her consciousness was fighting to breathe, to keep its head above the waves of thoughts manifesting as a chorus of voices in her head. In her desperation, she had let them in, not knowing their strength and not seeing the depth of their anger, the hate that had grown for ten thousand years and would not be denied. </p><p>She tried to move from the platform but could not command her feet to walk, and fell to her knees. We need you here, they whispered. Without you, our Queen, we are nothing. She tried to stem the flow of thanergy to them, but was not permitted and tasted blood, felt it leak from her eyes and nose. She looked to the heavens and let out a choked cry. The exertions were without respite and would kill her soon. She understood her fate at last; she had been doomed from the moment she had opened herself to them. Nothing could save her now.  </p><p>-</p><p>From the shadows, Gideon saw her. </p><p>Kneeling on top of a tower of bone two stories high, dragged by a mob of skeletons. Harrow was alive, and real, and there, right there in front of her, at last. It had been too much to hope for, and part of her wanted to laugh and cry and run to her. </p><p>But everything was wrong. Even from this distance, her suffering was obvious, drawn in every line of her body, etched in the blood on her face. It was too much to take. The world stopped, and all she could see was a fragile girl in black, all she could feel was her pain. </p><p>Gideon climbed out of the shattered store, heedless of the thousands of menacing figures before her. They were forgotten, an irrelevance next to the girl that had never left her dreams though they were a galaxy apart, souls divided by forces that had seemed vast and insurmountable. She leapt onto the ancient skeleton of a vehicle, unable to wrench her gaze from the small dark figure. </p><p>-</p><p>Stop, Harrow pleaded with the voices. This will kill me. But the ghosts cared not. </p><p>She heard a hoarse cry in the distance.</p><p>“Harrow!”</p><p>Stood on an ancient vehicle, looking at her with an expression of anguish, a wild looking figure in the garb of a desert dweller, dirty and worn, but unmistakable. </p><p>Harrowhark emitted a short, gasping laugh. What a fool she was. How could she ever have doubted? Gideon was here, and with her, hope.</p><p>One million empty eye sockets turned to Gideon, one million feet stepped towards her. Death to the living, the voices whispered.  </p><p>“Gideon!” Harrow screamed, blood flying from her lips.</p><p>The torment in Harrow’s cry broke Gideon free of the shock that had frozen her. She raised the sword and with a roar, jumped down to attack the nearest figure. The ease with which the blade swept through it surprised her; it met little resistance, its own energy disrupting the thanergy that animated the soldier, reducing it to an explosion of bone that fell to the ground.</p><p>She pushed onwards, scything through the mass, cutting a path through the wall of reanimated bone, pieces crunching beneath her feet as she advanced. The two-hander burned brightly, ever greater power flowing through it from the city of graves, channeled unconsciously by the flame haired girl caught in the blaze of battle. </p><p>She swung the sword with a ferocity that shook the dead; skulls, tibia, fragments of corpses long deceased spraying into the night sky and littering the battlefield. Even those with no life left to lose, no blood left to spill hesitated in the face of the golden eyed fury before them. But they were so many. A bony fist left a gash on one temple. A blow from the side staggered her before she rent the skeleton into a flurry of bone.</p><p>- </p><p>Harrow wrenched her eyes from the battle. She needed to consider her options, and had only seconds before Gideon was overwhelmed. She tested her ability to direct the constructs, to prevent their attack, but they were far beyond her reach, the power of the crowd of spirits surpassing her many times over. </p><p>And yet, she was the conduit that enabled their power. Could she stop the flow of thanergy through her, to them? It seemed impossible, like damming a great river in full flow. Doubly impossible. Even if she could stem the stream, with nowhere to go, the energy would build rapidly within her, resulting in her destruction. </p><p>But wasn’t she the finest necromancer of her age? Prove it Harrow. Think. Find a solution, then do the impossible. Save Gideon.</p><p>-</p><p>Two more rendered into a scattering of osseous fragments, but Gideon was tiring, worn down by the exertion and the battering, and there were hundreds more between her and her Penumbral Princess, still so distant. The battle was unwinnable without her, and somehow these ghouls had fucked her up. So be it. Go down fighting. A skeleton barreled into her from behind, and dragged her to her knees. Others piled on, raining down kicks and punches, or simply throwing themselves onto the stricken warrior. </p><p>Gideon found herself crushed beneath the blows and a pile of clattering, grinding fleshless corpses, face to face with a skull that seemed to be silently mocking her. This was it, the end. </p><p>The bones shifted to give her sight of a skeleton standing above her, holding a sharpened metal rod. </p><p>She felt the heat and saw the unnatural light of the two-hander trapped beneath her, the thanergy building within it. </p><p>The skeleton raised the rod with two slender white arms, to deliver the blow that would bring an end to this one-sided skirmish.      </p><p>Not yet. </p><p>With an incoherent roar, summoning final shreds of strength from places she had believed lost, she threw off the mob to free the sword and block the strike. The release of energy through the blade blasted the skeletal warrior into spray of osseous shards.</p><p>She had bought seconds of reprieve, but only seconds. The skeletons surrounding her righted themselves and launched at her in a final attack, to rend this fool of a fighter into rags and blood.  </p><p>-</p><p>Harrow closed herself to the world, calmed herself, focused. She must adjust and experiment on the fly. Diverting rather than damming the flow outright was a promising solution. </p><p>Non-trivial though, and only seconds to spare. The correct spell out of thousands, the optimum alignment of thanergetic foci in the etherical plane. Timing critical or the implementation would fail. But still, possible.   </p><p>-</p><p>Gideon raised the zweihander high, as she disappeared under a crowd of furious bones that thirsted only for the blood of the living.</p><p>As the reanimated smothered her, with a cry she drove the blade into the ground all the way to the hilt. </p><p>A single bass thunderclap that shook a billion bones and drove the air from Harrow’s chest.</p><p>A single discharge of thanergy into the earth, exploding the skeletons covering Gideon into a fountain of bone, a wave of light rippling out from the sword, annihilating thousands more.</p><p>The cloud of fragments and drifting dust cleared. Gideon knelt, a battered and bloody bag of rags in the center of a clearing in the horde, nothing but pieces of the dead covering a circle a hundred steps wide around her.</p><p>The sightless eyes of a million dead turned to the flame haired warrior.</p><p>Gideon’s attack had diverted the ghosts, granting her the space she needed. Harrow raised one hand, lips moving rapidly and silently to complete the incantation. A particularly taxing variation on a theme, but she had to be sure, no second chances. She understood it would require more strength than she had remaining, but so be it; if she could complete the spell in time, Gideon would live. What more could she ask? The spell started, the process that would end her began, and a smile flickered across stained, broken lips. </p><p>She looked to her champion. Gideon raised her head.</p><p>Obsidian and Amber eyes met across the silent battlefield. </p><p>Gideon raised herself painfully up on the sword.  </p><p>“Harrow.” She breathed.</p><p>Harrowhark reached out, blood flowing freely on her face now. </p><p>“Gideon.” She whispered. </p><p>The army charged, their hate visible even in faces incapable of expression, a resentment that had festered for ten thousand years.</p><p>Gideon stood, staggering, and raised the two-hander in defiance.</p><p>“Come get some, fuckers.” </p><p>Harrow fought to divert some pathways, while closing those that could not be redirected in time. The raging torrent of thanergy slowed to a calm river. </p><p>The skeletal army halfway to Gideon.</p><p>Harrowhark adjusted the alignment, dragging the foci. The river was reduced to a stream. </p><p>The skeletons scraped to a sudden halt and turned to their Queen as one.</p><p>No, they screamed. </p><p>“Gotcha.” Harrow smiled. </p><p>The final piece in place, the stream halted. </p><p>The millions fell as one, collapsed into the long dead fragments of people that had once laughed and loved in this place.</p><p>As the towering construct that bore her disintegrated and Harrow slipped into the dark embrace of unconsciousness, she watched droplets of blood fly up to the sky and realized they were hers. She was falling, falling so far...</p><p>“No.” Gasped Gideon, and ran, forgetting exhaustion, forgetting the injuries, stumbling across the field of bone. Please no. Not now.</p><p>She reached the remains of the construct and scrambled upwards, hands and feet scrabbling at the pieces to drag her to the top and fall by the side of the small, broken figure in black. She sat up and held her. Still breathing, still alive, thank the gods, but there was so much blood. Too much. What could she do? </p><p>Harrowhark’s eyes flickered open. “You came.” She whispered.</p><p>“Of course I came, idiot.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Harrow whispered. “I told you to never doubt, always believe, but I doubted.”</p><p>“Forgiven.” Gideon choked on the word. </p><p>“I think this is the end. Don’t forget me.”</p><p>“Shut up. Don’t talk like that. Siphon me, do something.”</p><p>“Too late.” She reached up to touch one grazed cheek, then closed her eyes.</p><p>Gideon caught the hand as it fell. </p><p>“Harrow?” </p><p>This could not be. It couldn’t happen. She was Harrowhark The First, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Necrosaint. She’d come up with something. She always did. Her eyes were closed because she was working something out.</p><p>“Harrow? Please. Say something.”</p><p>Harrow’s eyes remained closed, lips unmoving.   </p><p>“Harrow?” Tears fell on torn, bloody clothing. “Help me.”   </p><p>The girl in her arms was as still as the dead city. The wind whistled through the empty doors and windows of the forgotten buildings. It brushed gently through the leaves of the bent tree that stood guard over the last love of the Emperor Undying. It ruffled strands of hair that had fallen over the bloodstained face of Harrowhark Nonagesimus.  </p><p>Gideon pulled her closer, as if guarding her against the chill night, scared to release her, unable to let go the testy, scruffy, extraordinary woman that she loved more than life itself, but knowing she must. </p><p>Harrow’s hand always felt so small in hers. Gideon lowered it to the hilt of the sword that had fallen between them. Their sword.</p><p>The blade glowed. Thanergy, energy, passing through it again. </p><p>The sword. Energy flowing. Gideon had been siphoned more than once, had felt the flow of life from her to Harrow. She was uncomfortably well acquainted with it. Since her combination with Harrow, she had gained an instinctive understanding of thanergy and the power created by death, as the events of the past few days had shown her. </p><p>What if she had gained more ability than she’d realized. Could she siphon in reverse, from herself to Harrow? Anything was worth trying and dying for.  </p><p>She placed Harrow’s other hand on the hilt, held them both there tightly. The metal shimmered.</p><p>She felt the death within her, felt herself dying slowly by degrees and the sickening weakness it brought, followed by a dull pain filling her body. The world dimmed a little. She sensed the energy created by death, pushed it from her into the sword and from the sword to Harrow.</p><p>The pain was sharper now. Her head full of twisting knives, her body pierced by burning needles. Keep going. With a groan she slumped to the ground, eyes still on the slight dark figure next to her, hands still on the glowing sword. Don’t stop now.</p><p>The world was fading away into darkness. It was harder to see, harder to keep her eyes open. She became aware her teeth were chattering and felt an aching chill spread through her. How much further? How far should she go? </p><p>All the way, of course. This would be a good death.</p><p>The chill and the pain receded, replaced by a numbness, an absence of feeling and life. A relief, in a way, though she understood that beyond that numbness lay nothing, her end. Keep your eyes open, girl.</p><p>Harrow’s eyes flickered open with a gasping breath. </p><p>Gideon released the sword, let go the death within her to allow life to slowly return.</p><p>The two girls lay on their backs on the mound of bone in exhausted silence, watching silver clouds pass over the moon.</p><p>“What happened?” Said Harrow quietly.</p><p>“Saved you.” Gideon pushed the words out haltingly. “Siphon. Reverse.” </p><p>“Oh god.” Harrow groaned.</p><p>“Uhh?”</p><p>“You’ll never let me forget this. A myriad from now you’ll still be reminding me about how you saved my life twice.”</p><p>“Sorry. I can siphon it back.”</p><p>“No, it’s ok.” </p><p>Gideon turned her head slowly and painfully to the side to survey the battlefield and the millions of dead-again fleshless corpses. “Honestly babe, I know you’re high maintenance, but this,” She raised an arm feebly. “Is a bit much, even for you.”</p><p>“Am not.” Harrow protested weakly. “Things just got a little out of hand.” </p><p>They lay there unmoving, watching the stars, and a chill, drizzling rain started to fall.</p><p>“Oh come on.” Gideon groaned. “Give me a fucking break.”</p><p>“I’ve acquired a very comfortable dwelling in the choicest real estate in the locale.” Harrow said, raising her head to nod at the gleaming glass tower. “We should retire there.”</p><p>“Ok. Give me a minute.”</p><p>Gideon heard a soft tutting.</p><p>“What?” Gideon said, exasperated. “I’ve literally lost count of the number of times I’ve almost died in the past few weeks. It's exhausting.”</p><p>“Take your time.” Harrow assured her. “I am a little fatigued myself. We’ve got all night.” </p><p>Harrow reached out a hand to find dirty, bloodstained fingers and wrapped hers around them tightly. They gripped hers in return.</p><p>Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus could never have dreamed that lying on a pile of bones, in a cold rain, in the night at the end of the world, could ever feel so utterly, wonderfully perfect.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon staggered into the apartment, closely followed by an out of breath Harrowhark. The rooms were spacious, luxuriously furnished and tastefully lit by a number of well-placed skulls glowing with thanergy.   </p><p>“You couldn’t have picked something on the ground floor?” Gideon asked in disbelief.</p><p>“It’s the Penthouse, darling.” Harrow gasped in explanation.</p><p>“Lyctors…” Gideon muttered under her breath.</p><p>Harrow threw herself onto a large cream colored sofa. “God, I‘m famished.” She declared.</p><p>Gideon looked around the apartment. “Me too. How does this work?”</p><p>“Look in the cupboards. Over there. There’s all kinds of food in metal cylinders. Fabulous gruel.”</p><p>Gideon opened a cupboard and scanned the assorted cans for something recognizable, picked a couple out.</p><p>“I think this stew is ten thousand years past its Best Before date, but given the circumstances I’ll chance it. How come this all looks new?”</p><p>“Oh, I’ll get to that.” Replied Harrow. “But how in the name of the Necrolord did you make it here? I only just managed it myself.”</p><p>“It was insanely difficult and dangerous.” Said Gideon. “But you know how it goes. I’m awesome. Crushed it.”</p><p>“If I know you, I’m sure you have some amazing stories to tell.”</p><p>“Stories…” Gideon stared into the distance. “Hmm.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Harrow studied Gideon’s face. “Oh my god. Oh. My. God.” She sat up. “Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. Some bloody waif fluttered her eyes at you and you went all weak at the knees.”</p><p>“How the fuck do you do that?” Gideon groaned loudly. “Sometimes going out with a sorcerer queen really sucks.”</p><p>“Did you have sex with her?” Harrow glared with coal black eyes.</p><p>“She drugged me Harrow!” Gideon protested, as Harrow let out a cry of frustration. “She used magic potions to wipe out my memory and make me kill people, and… get me hot. I didn’t even know who I was. She totally took advantage of me.”</p><p>“So that’s a yes.” Harrow fumed. “Honestly, you are unbelievable. I’m exiled to a dead-end planet in the pits of the galaxy, going mad with power and raising an army of the undead to conquer planets for just a minute and you’re already off with some floozy.”</p><p>“Ok. I should have waited for you to really blow it.”</p><p>“She did apologize.” Gideon continued. “She was working through some family issues. Also, she invited you to her place as well. So all three of us could, you know, get it on.” </p><p>“Oh, well that makes everything fine then.” Harrow threw her hands up in despair. “I shall never forgive this. Never. Can I have a glass of water please, I’m parched.”</p><p>Gideon found a glass, filled it from the tap, walked over to kneel beside the sofa where Harrow lay, floored by her distress. </p><p>“I’m sorry, but Harrow, look, I’m here.” Gideon said. “I’ve traveled the galaxy, battled men and monsters and ancient terrors, crossed deserts, fought armies, almost died too many times to count… got caught in the rain, and here I am. For you.”</p><p>“I know.” Harrow conceded quietly and looked into her eyes. “Still, I reserve the right to use this against you in the future.”</p><p>Gideon leaned down and kissed her.</p><p>Harrow sighed. “2 or 3 times then. No more.”</p><p>They kissed again.</p><p>“Maybe once.”</p><p>“Shut up and kiss me, bone hag.”</p><p>And they did. The usual kind of words about lips and skin, touching and passion just won’t do here. Know that they kissed as if they were returning to life itself, to stand in the sun, when they’d believed it impossible, imprisoned in a cold, hard place where all had been lost because the gods had finally woken up and realised that their love was too miraculous to exist and in realising their mistake, had erased it from existence forever. </p><p>Everything that brought a smile to their lips on waking and a glow to their hearts before falling asleep at night and inspired all the beauty in between had been torn away, yet they had fought and won it all back, and their kiss was a celebration of the sweetest of all victories.</p><p>It was the kind of kiss that wraps you up and takes you far away to a place where its just the two of you and nothing else exists, and what’s outside is forgotten, a billion miles away, because really, who fucking cares. Even when outside is a storm in a nightmare hellscape filled with a million dead who only a few minutes ago were trying to kill you and very nearly succeeded. </p><p> </p><p>That kind of kiss.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gideon walked to the window. The light of a new day was starting to creep over the city. Harrow joined her, steaming mug of tea in hand. </p><p>“See that tree, down there?” Harrow remarked.</p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>“Buried the Emperor’s girlfriend under it the other week.”</p><p>“No fucking way. That’s why you’re here?”</p><p>“Kind of. It’s a long story.”</p><p>“Does it involve you having sex with any pervy sorcerer Princesses?”</p><p>“Certainly not.”</p><p>“Ok. I’m still interested though.”</p><p>Harrow took a deep breath. “Well, when I was summoned to him that day in Domelle, after a bit of preamble he told me I was his favorite.”</p><p>Gideon looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That’s big.” </p><p>“I know. Right?” Harrow declared, then continued. “Anyway, then he started asking me about Alchemists...”</p><p>     </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“Harrowhark, my child, what do you know of the Alchemists?”</p><p>“Regretfully, nothing My Lord.” Harrow answered, confused. This meeting was full of unexpected twists, when she had anticipated a straightforward condemnation and sentencing.</p><p>He smiled. “Not a surprise. I expect it’s only students of ancient history as devoted, or obsessed, as myself that are aware of them now.”</p><p>“Alchemists were regarded as sorcerers in their day.” He began. “They would transform common metals or indeed any common material, into gold, an element of great rarity in those times. In reality their command of the mantic arts afforded them no such ability, but the promise of transmuting something worthless into something of great value understandably obsessed some of the greatest minds of their age.”</p><p>“It’s actually quite amusing to hear you justify your actions regarding Gideon in terms of burdens, debts and destiny. I could use a much simpler word. But the question is: why do you love her?”</p><p>“She reminds you of the crime that gave rise to your birth, the terrible burden you’ve been forced to bear for your entire life. She reminds you of the death of your parents and your betrayal of them. You should hate her.”</p><p>“And why does she love you? You tormented her, you made her life as unpleasant as possible for many years. By all reasonable expectations, she should hate you. She should run away from you, as far as possible, to find peace.”</p><p>“Hate is simple. We exist, we suffer, we identify the source of that suffering and construct a hatred around it. Love is a far rarer and more valuable thing. More delicate than hate, which feeds upon itself and has a fierce resilience, love can be extinguished in an instant. It’s quite a find at any time. For Gideon and yourself, it is quite extraordinary, almost a miracle.”</p><p>“You are an Alchemist, Harrowhark Nonagesimus. You transformed the commonplace and worthless - hate - into something of value and beauty - love.”   </p><p>“I am the Emperor Undying. I came into this world more than a myriad ago. Have you ever considered, Harrowhark the First, what that means? Have you ever tried to imagine ten thousand years? You have had the opportunity to observe its effects up close. Cytherea was a beautiful soul once, the best of us, full of love, full of joy.” He said wistfully. “And you saw what she had become. Time is a terrible thing.” He sighed. “It is without mercy. Entropy destroys, it tears us down.” </p><p>“It doesn’t take ten thousand years for your heart to become empty and hard. As ossified as those bones you love so much.” He smiled. “The world is filled with people, situations and events that you have experienced before, countless times. It becomes difficult to feel anything for these things, so commonplace they seem. They come and they go, and you come to believe them all to be of no worth, valueless. They pass quickly and leave you undisturbed, unchanged.”</p><p>“You come to believe that nothing can truly touch you again. You have sampled everything this universe has to offer, ad nauseum, and your heart is hardened.”</p><p>“But then, when you’d stopped even desiring such a thing for centuries, the unexpected. A thing of beauty, a flower blooming in a desert. It is always something entirely unanticipated, a marvel.”</p><p>“Your story touched me. An impossible love born of hatred. An alchemical transformation that created an object of beauty and made me believe in the capacity of life to surprise and enchant me again. It was the tinder that reignited a fire that I’d forgotten existed. You bestowed a gift of great rarity and value, such as you can barely imagine. That is why you are my favorite, Harrowhark the First.”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“He said all that about us?” Gideon was stunned. </p><p>“He did. I was absolutely dumbstruck.”</p><p>“I thought I loved you because of mild brain damage from all the arse kickings I got back in the Ninth.”</p><p>“Well for god’s sake don’t tell him that.” Harrow smiled. “He’s fully bought into it having some deeper meaning.” Gideon took Harrow’s hand as shared sips of tea and they watched the landscape brighten together.</p><p>“But that doesn’t explain why we’re here in this glorious paradise.” Gideon said.</p><p>“Right, ok. So he’s been fascinated with our story for some time. I wouldn’t be astonished if he had a subtly indirect hand in your resurrection. It did all come together very neatly.”</p><p>“Do you know if he owns a small boat?” Gideon mused, distracted.</p><p>Harrow shot her a confused look. “No. Anyway, once you were here, it had practical benefits as well. He knew he was asking a lot of me and having you around helped me cope with the stresses of the war.”  </p><p>“But once your unholy resurrection was revealed, he had to punish me. There were a range of penalties available, from death - apparently some were lobbying for that - to a penance of hard labor for a decade or two.” </p><p>“But he needs Lyctors, and - though I do say it myself - I am a good one. He decided to take a risk and opt for a solution that, if it paid off, would kill a number of birds with one stone: it could bring me back to the fray quickly, correct an ancient mistake and indulge his interest in our connection. I was to be exiled to Etra, a place suitably awful enough to satisfy my enemies. That was the official decision.”</p><p>“But he told me that there was a woman, a myriad ago when he was still mortal. She loved him a lot, and he loved her, but his duties meant he neglected her. She became old, while he became the Undying. He left her behind in this city. When it was attacked, though he came as quickly as he could, it was too late. Millions died in seconds, including her.”</p><p>“He was overcome with guilt at leaving her, how he’d taken her for granted and hadn’t deserved the devotion she’d given him. And he was tormented by the thought that he was destined to leave behind everything he’d ever loved as a mortal and watch it decay. He feared that as he grew older he’d never find anything else that inspired him in the same way. So he preserved this place as a shrine to her, locking it inside some particularly tricky entropy-chrono wards. Very difficult to unlock and get in, but you know how it goes,” Harrow confirmed smugly. “I’m awesome. Crushed it.”</p><p>“Anyway, he forgot all about her. Completely. Until I came along, with my/our miraculous, undeserved love and the guilt and torment that came with death forcing one to leave it behind.” Harrow paused, and Gideon put an arm around her. “Those were dark times. I think he saw himself in me, a little. Anyway, he remembered her for the first time in millennia and realized he’d made a mistake. The one place she deserved to be preserved was in his thoughts and heart, not on some desolate planet light years away.”</p><p>“So I was to come here, find the tower, if it still existed, honor her last wishes by burying her in what used to be her favorite park, under that tree, and find a keepsake to take back, so he could remember her properly.”</p><p>“And then I was to wait for you. If you came for me, and we were to return to him having accomplished all that he had asked of me, then it would prove our ‘shared destiny’ and ‘impossible love’ was real and that I was right to use whatever means I had at my disposal to resurrect you. I would be pardoned. If you didn’t, well then, it wasn’t meant to be, and I was to remain here in exile.”</p><p>“So he gave me the choice of that, or 15 years labor and penitence in a hermitage in Ocra.”</p><p>“I chose the risk. I chose to have faith in you.” Harrow stated matter-of-factly. </p><p>“You lucked out.” Gideon said. “It was a bit of a toss-up, coming after you or pursuing a full-time career in rugball.”</p><p>Harrow glared. Gideon grinned.</p><p>“Oh, you know I’d cross galaxies and defy death for my Penumbral Princess, my Sepulchral Queen, my Doll of Darkness.”</p><p>Harrow sighed, and relaxed into Gideons arms. </p><p>“But Harrow, I’ve been thinking.”</p><p>“Just when I thought this week couldn’t get any weirder.” Harrow said apprehensively.</p><p>“Do we need to go back?” Gideon continued. “They called us unholy, unnatural. They demeaned and insulted and hated us. Why go back just to suffer them again? We have everything we need, right here. Just the two of us.”</p><p>Harrow considered this. “You’re right, Griddle. This is a fitting place for our story to end. They can’t touch us here with their filth and hate and hurtful words. You and I, in splendid isolation, for the rest of time.” </p><p>Harrow turned to the perfect desolation before her, as did Gideon. They held hands and watched the sun rise over the shattered city, the dawn of a new day. It would be a hard day, the first of many filled with the work of carving out a new life in the bleak, unforgiving landscape. </p><p> </p><p>But it was a day they could shape as they saw fit.</p><p> </p><p>Alone, but together.</p><p> </p><p>Free.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I crack me up.” Gideon chuckled.</p><p>“By all that is holy and unholy it’s good to have you back.” Smiled Harrow. “As if I would ever give them the pleasure. I do not want to remain in this dreadful place a moment longer. Any idea how we get home?”</p><p>“Nope.” Replied Gideon. “But here’s what I know; I’m Gideon Nav the Unkillable and you’re Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Queen of Bones. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“We shall crush it, no doubt.” Agreed Harrow. “And I can not wait to see the look on their faces when we return. Let’s roll, Griddle.”</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(In my mind this plays out to Lady Gaga’s ‘Stupid Love’)</p><p>Wow! You made it to the end! Of all five chapters?! Get out.</p><p>You. Are. Awesome. Really. Give yourself a little reward today. Something nice. I insist - you’ve made my week. I never thought anyone would actually read this. :)</p><p>And I made it to the end as well. When I started this I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I knew the beginning, the end and thought my sketchy list of plot points might come to 2 chapters tops. Sheesh. But once started, it had to be finished. </p><p>I even missed out a bunch of stuff. Like the part where Gideon has to go undercover as a stripper to extract the whereabouts of the city at the end of the world from a pirate captain (fortunately he likes his girls dominating, so she gets the info plus a big tip). Maybe it’s for the best I left that one out :)   </p><p>I’d never even considered writing anything before finishing GTN in Feb, so it's been a real journey. I’m taking a rest now to focus on other things. Probably... (update - I didn't, I wrote a 'The Unspoken Name' fic and am into a Star Wars one now).</p><p>Actually... I have an idea. Go they go back. Everything is cool, the Emperor Undying very pleased, but Gideon can't remain Harrow's bodyguard - too much personal conflict. So what would she do? Be a kept woman? Fat chance. She's off to do what she always wanted - fight on the front lines. But how would Harrow feel about that? She knows the hell of the conflict without end. Big fight. Both feel the other is being selfish. They split up, Gideon off to the fight, Harrow trying to continue her duties, but the stresses on her are breaking her down. Gideon in the battle she was born for, her mysterious abilities developing, coming to the fore...</p><p>Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading it! Bye!</p>
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